The Anniversary Waltz
by vanhunks
Summary: J/C Final Chapter. An anniversary to celebrate the joining of a Maquis and Starfleet crew into a Voyager crew. A partnership made in heaven, but they're not together. An urn with mystical powers and who is the Goddess of Virtue?
1. Default Chapter

THE ANNIVERSARY WALTZ vanhunks June 2003  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Disclaimer: Paramount owns the characters, Janeway and Chakotay and...Seven of Nine  
  
NOTE:1) I was intrigued by the rules of the competition and naturally, just the mention of it being an "anniversary" contest, triggered instantly an old song I listened to when I was a child, "The Anniversary Waltz". This story, though named the same, bears no resemblance to the song. So when I thought of "anniversary" I pondered on the things - trivial and important - that could be celebrated, other than birthdays and weddings, of course.  
2) I've done a little bit of online research for pictures of the urn such as seen here in this story. I worked on the premise of Chakotay's interest in archeology and anthropology.  
3) My daughter is a ballroom dancer and in the last four years I've learnt a lot about this sport and this story is in a way a tribute to all the great partnerships in dancesport - Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers, Luca and Loraine Baricchi [mentioned in this story], Michael Wentink and Beata, etc.  
  
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS: Sheila, for agreeing to look at the story. Thanks!  
  
SUMMARY: An anniversary to celebrate the joining of a Maquis and Starfleet crew into a Voyager crew. A partnership made in heaven, but they're not together. An urn with mystical powers and who is the Goddess of Virtue? Set 3 years after their return to the Alpha Quadrant.  
  
PART ONE  
  
Ketarcha Prime - 2381  
  
"We are ready to test the atmospheric grid again," Annika Hansen told her colleague. Eager fingers moved dexterously over the panels as she kept her eyes on the large screen in front of them. Ketarcha Prime rotated lazily inside the grid that enveloped the planet.  
  
"A good thing that we have been able to allow for a few apertures along the polar areas of the two hemispheres. The largest of our vessels will be able to slip through without compromising the grid when the plasma storms hit the planet."  
  
"It's not an unknown occurrence on other homeworlds, though Ketarcha may be the first to demonstrate a grid that can filter and correct electromagnetic fluctuations while we will be able to manipulate the apertures at will."  
  
"Good work, Annika. Ketarcha Prime has long needed your expertise."  
  
Annika's mouth twisted into a smile, but she kept her eyes on the screen, watching as plasma storms ravaged the planet all along the equator and spread to the polar caps. She set the atmospheric cover in motion. Three vessels entered the planet's atmosphere at different openings while the storms ravaged. Amyal made a little sound of satisfaction as he saw the vessels slip through with just enough space and time before the opening closed again seconds later. The ships glided safely through when the cover momentarily halted the flash storms at the openings.  
  
"I am pleased with the results," Annika stated.  
  
"We should be able to submit our findings in a week," he replied.  
  
Because he stood so close to her, Amyal could see a slight trembling of her fingers as he cast her a quick glance.  
  
"You will have to do the submissions alone, Amyal. We are leaving for Earth and will return only three months later. You know that."  
  
"He does not love you, Annika Hansen." The Ketarchan's green eyes glowed like a cat's in the dark as they rested on her. She blinked once and clenched her jaw. It was the only sign that his words cut into her. She returned his gaze.  
  
"You are wrong. He is faithful to me - "  
  
"Fidelity must come from his heart, and his heart is not with you."  
  
"If that is a measure of a man's fidelity, then is not every man unfaithful?"  
  
"You know what I mean, Annika Hansen," Amyal replied. He thought he was already too presumptuous to have said that her partner didn't love her. But he was right, and so was every man and woman who had come to know them, and especially the few friends they made. "When we see you together there is little connection. I have seen how my own parents had a bond that those who looked at them could see was as tangible as sand on the ground. I know that his heart is not with you, Annika."  
  
"Why are you saying these things to me? My feelings have always been just and Chakotay has returned my feelings."  
  
"Your eyes betray you when you speak, even while you speak those words with so much conviction."  
  
"He will never leave me. That is enough for me."  
  
Amyal Pravin sighed again. Annika's shoulders squared in the resolute manner he had learned in the last three years, belying the emotions that roiled inside her. He could never understand how she could be content with a life that was not fulfilling for her. Once, a year ago, he had observed her while she had been working at her station. The experiments to perfect a new atmospheric grid had been in its infancy then. Annika's dedication was legendary on Ketarcha Prime and she had already made remarkable strides in the planet's search for ground-breaking technological advances. Thanks to her, a new astrometrics laboratory had been built similar to the one they had on the starship Voyager, and now their long range sensors were enhanced by 40%.  
  
That day he had seen how a tear escaped and rolled down her cheek and Annika had been unaware that her cheeks were wet. Up to that time he had not known that the woman who was once a Borg could cry. Always, she had been impassive, her face rarely revealing emotions or even becoming animated when she did feel anything. Sometimes she smiled, and most times, when in the company of the dark haired man who researched Ketarcha Prime's archeological sites and its eight thousand year old cultural history, Annika's eyes had been alive. The way her greyish-green eyes flickered, and the little smile that occasionally relieved the severity of her features, Amyal could see that she was happy. That was before their first visit to Earth. Amyal gave a sigh. When they returned after their second visit, Annika looked different, her eyes filled with sorrow whenever the warrior wasn't in her presence.  
  
"Then you must explain to me," Amyal persisted, "why you could not smile for days after your second visit to Earth..."  
  
"You must understand that Chakotay - "  
  
Amyal smiled, briefly interrupting Annika as his hand lifted at the same time. She rarely called the dark warrior by his name these days.  
  
"Chakotay?"  
  
"He is of that world, Amyal Pravin. I cannot deny him the opportunity to visit Earth."  
  
"You are of that world too. It is not your home...your...heimat?" he asked.  
  
"Heimat is where my heart is, and my heart is with him. I cannot stop him if he wishes to return - "  
  
"And is that not, by that same definition, where Chakotay's heart is? It is not just the beautiful blue planet, is it?"  
  
"Chakotay...loves Earth..." Annika replied, sounding unwilling to concede to Amyal's statement.  
  
"It is more than that. But I grant you, Chakotay is drawn to Earth the same way I long to be back on Ketarcha Prime every time I have traveled off- world. I can never wait to be back. I cannot imagine never seeing the condors circling over our canyons, or hearing waterfalls deep in the heart of the Maluti Mountains that give life to our rivers."  
  
"You are sentimental, Amyal Pravin."  
  
"So are you, only you hide it deep inside you. You should let yourself hear the sounds of your world - the cry of the beasts, the way the rain sifts down softly on damp leaves, or the wind sings a gentle song or the waves of the ocean crash against the rocks." Amyal smiled, his eyes filled with yearning as he continued, "One look at our Maluti and my soul finds rest."  
  
"There, you are not only sentimental. You are a poet too."  
  
"Ah, Annika. Isn't poetry the very expression of a man's soul?"  
  
"I do not understand."  
  
"It is...how shall I say? Finding sense in images and symbols, understanding that one single word can resonate into a world of emotion. Your warrior, Annika... There is poetry and the love for beauty in his soul."  
  
"And Amyal Pravin knows Chakotay well enough to say he is a poet?"  
  
"I do. One day he told me that he understands the loneliness of the condor..."  
  
"He shared that with you?"  
  
"Have you ever sat alone and you watched a beautiful sunset? You desire fervently that there is someone with you, someone who will understand what you understand, see what you see through your eyes...only to find there is no such person? Do you know what hunger is then? The expression of all beauteous things means discovering a kindred soul and sharing that beauty, Annika, and - "  
  
"And what, Amyal Pravin?" Annika asked, her eyes remaining riveted to the screen. Amyal wasn't fooled. She was denying that the spark they had all seen the first year she and Chakotay had been on Ketarcha, had quietly faded. Annika bore her burden with dignity. He knew she was unhappy. Once, he hoped that he could find a path to her heart the same way the warrior Chakotay did. While his soul reached for his mountains and the cry of the condors, he wished many times that Annika could share his dream.  
  
"When you experience beauty and shares it with another, it should resonate in that person's heart, Annika, if the one with whom you share truly understands your own instinct to find beauty in little things... Chakotay has the heart of the poet, the artist, of all beauty..."  
  
"You are cruel," she replied, and he saw how her face became strained, as if she tried to prevent herself from weeping.  
  
"I do not mean to be. But do you not think it is time now to face that which is real, and to accept that what Chakotay feels he needs to share with one in whose heart he can find resonance?"  
  
"Perhaps," she conceded with a little smile, "but he...chose to be with me, and I am grateful - "  
  
"Grateful, not happy?" Amyal pounced.  
  
This time it was Annika who turned sharply, her attention momentarily away form the screen. She looked to him like the lone condor of the canyons, the one whose mate was killed and the people living around the canyons could hear her crying for many days.  
  
"I am...content."  
  
"You must leave for Earth again in a few days, and already I see your restlessness. Each time you have returned, your eyes - "  
  
"What, Amyal?" Annika cut in a little sharply. Amyal thought she was afraid to hear his next words, yet, her stance was brave, as brave as he thought she could be when knowing her mate was not with her in spirit.  
  
"The hollow look in your eyes became even more hollow, and the beauty of your face became like the statue of Our Goddess of Virtue on the wide plaza of Ketarcha City."  
  
"I love him, Amyal Pravin. I cannot deny my own heart," she admitted finally to him.  
  
"I know, Annika." Amyal leaned forward to touch Annika's cheek with long, bony fingers that trembled slightly at the touch. There was in his own heart a yearning, in his eyes a deep compassion. He saw how her eyes closed, saw how they opened again to fix on him, unwaveringly.  
  
"They dance, did you know?"  
  
He didn't, but the scientists at the Institute knew that the quiet warrior pined and they knew that there was another woman.  
  
"Dance? Is it special?"  
  
"Every year...a celebration. They dance. It is a tradition."  
  
"In our culture, there was a ritual dance," Amyal said and Annika's eyes lit up.  
  
"I did not know that. Explain."  
  
Amyal thought how strange it was that she didn't know, since her mate who studied Ketarcha's history, knew of it.  
  
"Eight thousand years ago. We - we were not always Ketarchan, Annika Hansen."  
  
"And the ritual? What was its significance?"  
  
"It was very special. Then, the Ketara was at war with the Anarchs."  
  
"The Anarchs?"  
  
How could she not know? Annika had lived on Ketarcha for three years. Amyal sighed again.  
  
"Yes. They were an aggressive warrior race and when it seemed that both races would be annihilated by constant war, our Goddess of Virtue, claimed by both sides as their deity, pleaded for peace."  
  
"The goddess whose statue graces the plaza of Ketarcha City."  
  
"Yes. Then they celebrated too, with a ritual dance. It was long ago. We are one race now."  
  
"Ketarcha...of course," Annika responded as realisation dawned on her. "Unity was achieved and - "  
  
Annika's eyes turned dark as she spoke, and there was a faraway look in them. Amyal touched her shoulder this time and held her so that she could look at him.  
  
"We have been at peace since then," he said quietly.  
  
"I desire peace, Amyal Pravin."  
  
"Then, perhaps, it is time you made a decision. I cannot bear to see the hollow eyes become more hollow. I cannot bear to see you look lost for many, many weeks after you return. Let him go."  
  
"I wish I could do that. I - I am a coward."  
  
"Only of the heart," he said, smiling kindly. "But if you desire peace, you must accept the sorrow, Annika Hansen. Peace does not come without a price."  
  
"A price," she whispered, her voice sounding thoughtful. "Can we never avoid the price one must pay?"  
  
"No, and you will never be more in touch with your humanity than when you do..."  
  
"You sound like...her... "  
  
"Admiral Janeway?"  
  
Annika flinched.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Then you know her words, Annika. A single act of compassion... Once, you told me that yourself."  
  
Annika turned to look at him again, a sad little smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.  
  
"Not only are you sentimental and a poet, Amyal. You are a philosopher."  
  
"And you...you know your truth."  
  
She turned her attention to the screen. Ketarcha Prime looked beautiful and aloof.  
  
"Shall we continue our experiments then, Amyal Pravin?" she asked, turning the conversation away from her sorrow.  
  
"Let us get to it."  
  
The next few minutes they worked quietly, focused once again on their project. Once, Annika stopped suddenly, caught his eyes on her. She smiled. Perhaps it was good that there was no mirror nearby, Amyal Pravin thought. Then Annika would have seen how her smile never reached her eyes, and how her eyes looked like they were deep pools. She looked again like the lonely condor that cried unendingly for her mate.  
  
********  
  
He liked using twentieth century implements to excavate in the deep trenches the students and volunteers had started digging three years ago. All over the second continent were similar excavations, more than fifteen metres deep. Eight thousand years of silt, plasma storm damage and natural evolution of the planet's surface had buried the old civilisations. Just closing his eyes Chakotay could imagine seeing potters at work, kilns fired, industry that kept the villagers occupied. He imagined he saw children running around, their laughter bright. He imagined he saw their parents, eyes indulgent yet ever watchful as the children ventured too far from their elders.  
  
The tiny hammer and chisel and brush he used were his only instruments, although he kept his scientific tricorder at hand. Patiently chipping away at rock, hours spent prising the fine details of animal remains, or pottery, or finding valuable artefacts, relics of ancient civilisations... The patience, the deep concentration required in his work kept him busy. He preferred it that way. He didn't have to think then, think of Annika and think of home and think of Kathryn.  
  
While many of the artefacts would have been traced just by the chemical and mineral composition, and using a simple scientific tricorder, it was too easy, too 24th century, Chakotay had decided long ago. He relished the painstaking hunt, second-guessing a group of villagers living eight or seven, or six thousand years ago.  
  
The trenches, almost all of them the size of small villages, had been carefully dug and Chakotay had watched with pleasure as they came to life - irrigation troughs, the outer walls of homes, the inner walls, places where he thought had to be a kitchen, or, since they found so many symbols relating to a deity or worship, the house's worship room. Here they recreated whole towns, industries. Every village had a little square; it was easy to determine, since traces of brick walls surrounded a clearing where there was nothing inside. Did the elders sit here and deliberate the running of the town? It was possible. They could even have celebrated some ritual - dance of fertility, life, fire, rain... These sites were by his nomination already declared heritage sites, not to be destroyed or tampered with.  
  
His students and volunteers had been enthusiastic, and most of the artefacts and pottery they found had already been classified and housed in Ketarcha's seven Museums of Antiquity, spread over its seven continents. He had been given permission by the Council of Ordinance, Ketarcha's governing body, to ship some of the relics to Earth for display there, and for the duration of his teaching stint at the Academy.  
  
His work on Ketarcha was almost done, and his careful chipping and brushing had revealed little of late. But he knew he'd find it eventually. Ketarcha's historical documents mentioned several potters of ancient times who fired urns and painted images on them, images that had, according to legend, special powers. They hadn't found one yet, and the little clicks of frustration that accompanied the discovery of yet another implement or artefact that was not what he was looking for, became more and more evident.  
  
"It is only a myth, Professor," one of his Ketarchan students told him. "Our historical documents only mention it in passing. Nothing was, as you earthlings say, written in stone - "  
  
"Never think that there is no truth in myth and legend, Rojan. They also tell you that the urns possess the power to bring peace into the heart of the one who beholds it. That is the way of the myth. I believe we will find it..."  
  
"And the myth also told you the images will start dancing when two people with the same heart look at the beautiful urn?" Rojan was only humouring him, and he hadn't taken offence.  
  
"Exactly."  
  
"But do you not think, Professor, that to search for one artefact with special powers, based in myth we know not to be real, defeats the purpose of our excavations?"  
  
"Not when it takes its place among all the others and we see things in context. When you look at Ketarcha City's exhibition, don't you think that something's missing from it? Like it needs one elusive element to complete it, to bring unity? When we put it there - once we've found it - everything falls into place and we will know who danced with the Goddess of Virtue..."  
  
"Ah, our Goddess. I think, Professor, you are a romantic."  
  
"I have been accused of being a philosopher, too. But aren't you the least bit curious as to the magnificent events that surrounded the unification of Ketara and Anarch?"  
  
"You mean pleading for peace and stilling the angry heart of the fiercest warrior of Anarch?"  
  
"I mean just that. The Potter of Primos was reputed to be the most revered. He lived in this village - "  
  
"We'll not find it, Professor."  
  
"Do you want to challenge me on that?"  
  
Rojan had given a sheepish laugh. "When you do, and if the myth is fulfilled, which two hearts will make the Goddess of Virtue dance?"  
  
"We should continue, Rojan. Let's not get personal here, shall we?"  
  
"As you wish, Professor," Rojan replied, then gave a smile that was too all- knowing.  
  
Now Chakotay was still looking, and the elusive urn remained just that - elusive. Frustrated, he hit the rock hard, then cursed as he realised he was being careless. He felt a creak beneath him. Frowning, he touched the ground and knocked on it. There was a hollow sound and he realised instantly he was sitting on top of a chamber with a roof of some kind that was unstable. Before he could move away, the ground gave under him.  
  
"What - !"  
  
"Professor!" one of the students shouted. "Be careful!"  
  
It was the last words he heard before he plunged into the dark depths. He landed with a soft thud and guessed he couldn't have fallen more than fifteen metres.  
  
"What the - ?" he muttered as he peered into the darkness, with only a thin shaft of light coming from above him. No one peered over the gap from his fall and he was glad. The ground appeared to be unstable. For a moment he cursed himself for not setting his tricorder on scan. But it was too late. He had taken a tumble, but wasn't hurt much.  
  
"Professor, are you alright?"  
  
"My backpack! Throw it down here," he cried out, rubbing his leg at the same time. "Be careful. Slide on your stomach, Rojan!" Chakotay couldn't see in front of him, and the light blinded him as he looked up. He gave a cry when his backpack hit him as it was thrown down. "Keep away, will you? I don't want more ground to cave in," he ordered.  
  
"Yes, Professor!"  
  
Seconds later, his wrist light was attached and he peered around him. There was a narrow tunnel in the cavern wall and his first instinct was to enter the tunnel and walk through it. He looked around and saw no other doors or access ports. His frustration had evaporated and the adrenalin was pumping again. He breathed in deeply as he started to walk, the light from the main cavern dimming as he moved further and further away from where he had fallen through. After about thirty metres, he found himself in another cavern, smaller than the first and appearing to be a place of worship. There were torches braced against the wall. Realising that his phaser was also in his pack, he quickly lit the first torch, surprised that what appeared like bitumen was still working after such a long period of time, even though it gave a very low, smoky orange hue. Light swelled slowly into the room as he lit the second torch. His idea that it was a chamber of worship was confirmed. An altar stood near the front wall. At least, he presumed it to be an altar. Flicking on his tricorder to scan, the stone tablet dated several thousand years.  
  
"Eight thousand years...the oldest so far..." he breathed in awe as he reached for the little object that stood on the altar. It looked like a chalice. He touched the surface of the altar, swept across it and saw when he looked at his hand, there was no dust. The little chalice had a smooth surface too, and he frowned as he touched it. Nothing happened. He curled his fingers around the thick stem, pressed it down on the altar. Still nothing happened.  
  
"So much for thinking it was a switch..." he muttered.  
  
He stood for several seconds, wondering what to do next, stubbing his toe against the base of the stone block. Then something happened. He heard a sound, and turning in the direction of the sound - about two metres to his left - was just in time to see a thick slab of rock moving away slowly, like a door without a hinge.  
  
Chakotay gasped and stepped forward, the chalice forgotten. His feet carried inexorably to the new opening created in the wall.  
  
"Strange..." he murmured as he noticed that dim light emanated from somewhere in the room as he crouched through the new, low passage. When he stood upright in the new room, his eyes were instantly drawn to the source of the light. Glowing darkly in hues of orange, blue and red, the urn stood in the centre on a metre high pedestal. "I don't need this..." he murmured again and swtiched off the wrist light. The contrast between the gleam and dark was now more pronounced. "The Urn of the Potter of Primos... It can only be his..." he whispered as he stepped closer. He stared long at it, noting the play of figures on the belly of the large jar, about fifty centimetres in height. "Dancing figures..." It seemed to him that the light moved, flickering slowly, or swelling out and back as he kept his eyes on the urn, not daring to look away. The light reached for him, touched him, finding a receptive heart that embraced it warmly. "Oh, great spirits!" In his mind he saw again the ancient ritual, with the Goddess of Virtue moving gracefully in eternal dance.  
  
The urn shone darkly, completely free of dust.  
  
"It's as if he fired and painted the urn only days ago... What marvel of a man was this?"  
  
Only when he heard the dim voices of his students, Chakotay moved and with the greatest care he removed the urn, wrapping it gently in soft cloth he always kept in his backpack before he retreated to the entrance. By that time a rope ladder had been dropped against the wall of the first cavern and minutes later, he blinked in the sharp sunlight.  
  
When he looked at the young men and women who remained at a small distance away from the unstable ground, he noticed how they looked at the object in his hand. They too, saw the figures, frozen in eternal dance.  
  
"You were right, Professor," Rojan whispered when he found his voice at last.  
  
"Yes...yes, I was, wasn't I?" Chakotay responded, holding the precious urn up. The figures, only two of them, were locked in dance, repeated right round the artefact, although their poses were different with each new image. The woman wore a long, gossamer garment and the warrior... Chakotay shook his head in disbelief as he kept gazing at the images.  
  
I must show Kathryn this... She will understand and know the truth...  
  
****************** 


	2. The Anniversary Waltz

PART TWO  
  
Kathryn twirled in front of the long mirror. The dress swished around her ankles. It was white chiffon in four layers, with one layer of dynasty satin underneath to secure a fullness of the skirt. The bodice with two thin straps fitted snugly. She reached to touch the white choker adorned with diamanté and little drops of shiny pearls hanging from its lower edge, tapering to a point above the valley of the bodice cups. She was pleased with the results. Tucking her hair behind her ears, she pictured the earrings that would complete the costume jewellery.  
  
"It is beautiful, even if I say so myself," Raoul gushed. He shaped his fingers as if he placed Kathryn in a frame and surveyed the picture.  
  
"You may say so," Kathryn replied, curtsying before him.  
  
"Now, if you're going to wear white, I suggest a white orchid for your hair - "  
  
"Orchid?"  
  
"Not artificial. A fresh one, Catherine," Raoul said firmly, crossing his arms, with his fingers touching his chin in a reflective gesture. "Hmmm...not bad...fresh orchid. I didn't think of that..."  
  
Kathryn marveled at the way Raoul could always say her name and give it such a feminine inflection, much softer than what Kathryn suggested. A fresh orchid seemed to her like an extravagance.  
  
"It will wilt and die before the night is over, Raoul," she said on a sober note.  
  
"Ah, but your partner will remember it forever, Catherine."  
  
"What would I do without you, Raoul?" Kathryn asked, ignoring his words as she prepared to dive in behind the partition and remove the dress.  
  
"Replicate a dress, heaven forbid?" Raoul mimicked a spit of disgust as he said 'replicate'. He ducked as Kathryn pitched right back again and punched his arm playfully.  
  
"You should know. It's never the same. I've done enough of that on Voyager, but here... I just love the idea of ordering someone to design me a garment."  
  
"Not just anyone! Me! Me!" Raoul agonised theatrically, throwing his hands up. "I love you, Catherine! Isn't she lovely?" He had planted himself in front of his window, telling some unknown individual on the sidewalk below of his happy client. She knew he was just teasing, sarcasm not suiting Raoul's persona. For that his ego was too great.  
  
"Raoul!" Kathryn laughed. "I'm serious! I love this dress; I love the feel of chiffons and satins and the drape of the garment about my ankles. Just imagine how beautiful it will look when I do a fall-away in the waltz..." On an impulse Kathryn stretched her arms and performed a dance movement.  
  
"Do not mock me, Catherine! Do you know how many hours went into that...creation you're wearing? And - and the diamanté will be hand-sewn on... You have no idea! Mon Dieu!"  
  
"Oh, Raoul," Kathryn placated, stepping up to him and placing her hands against his chest, "I do appreciate what you're doing for me." Then Kathryn, who fitted just under the shoulder of the rangy designer, stood on tiptoe and kissed him.  
  
Raoul's eyes widened, his hands flew to his cheek, and a blush crept into same cheeks. Then he walked to the window he just left, repeating over and over, "Oh, Oh! She kissed me... She kissed me! Hey you, down there! My beautiful princess kissed me!"  
  
By the time Raoul recovered from his surprise and gushing and turned away from the window at last, Kathryn had removed the dress carefully and was back in her uniform. She had made the quick trip from Headquarters to Paris to do a fitting. Raoul would probably insist that the dress needed some tweaking here and a tug there, although she thought it was perfect. She did like the idea of a fresh orchid in her hair and she was certain Raoul would see to it that it stayed fresh for at least a night. Smoothing down her jacket, she looked at him.  
  
"I have to get going again. The anniversary is only a fortnight from now, but I'll not be able to dip to Paris again after I've collected the dress."  
  
"That is excellent, Princess. I promise you your man will be utterly speechless and he shall remain speechless for the whole dance and when he has found his voice again, it will only be to say 'Such beauty has rarely been seen on Earth. Only angels could look like you look tonight, my love...'"  
  
"Raoul! Now, I've really got to go. See you next week - "  
  
"And Kathryn, the next dress I design for you...why it will surpass even this one," Raoul promised.  
  
"I'm not listening, Raoul..." Kathryn responded as she turned to the door and opened it.  
  
"It will be your wedding dress!"  
  
"Never!"  
  
Kathryn was in the corridor when she could still hear the eccentric designer's voice.  
  
"You have no idea how short never is..."  
  
*******************  
  
Back in the shuttle, Kathryn breathed a sigh of relief as she entered the coordinates for San Francisco. She slumped against the chair and closed her eyes, allowing the emotions she had battled to keep under control to wash over her. All Raoul could see was his favourite client ordering a new creation. Kathryn thought how self-absorbed he was not to notice that she was troubled.  
  
"No more..." she whispered into the silence of the shuttle as it took off gently at slow impulse. "No more... This is this last year..."  
  
Soon after they were whisked into the Delta Quadrant, they needed all sorts of distractions after emerging from their mourning, and they found celebrating even the smallest event a solace, reveling in the fact that they were one family. A year after Chakotay crashed the Liberty into the Kazon vessel and they joined the two crews - Maquis and Starfleet - into a Voyager crew, Neelix had come up with the idea of a celebration for that too. Tom Paris had been at the forefront of organising the festivities, coming up with the idea that the command team should open proceedings with a waltz. Kathryn gave an inward smile. The music for the waltz that first time had been a song Tom called "I went to your wedding".  
  
She thought of the white dress Raoul made, so simple and yet so incredibly elegant. It would be the first year she'd be wearing white for the anniversary waltz. All the other occasions - seven on Voyager and two in the Alpha Quadrant, she had worn other colours and designs, mostly in the soft shades. She loved the pastels and knew that especially for ball gowns, she looked good in it.  
  
Last year... Her heart gave a lurch and she clutched at her breast, allowing the painful beating to subside before breathing normally again. Last year she had seen Annika's eyes never leaving them as they moved around the floor, with the Voyager crew looking on. She felt everyone's eyes on them, but Annika Hansen's eyes bore into her. She had felt it as a tangible stab. Once, a fleeting moment only, she had turned her head away as they moved into a picture step, and saw how Seven of Nine's eyes closed.  
  
"You still move as lightly as ever, Kathryn," Chakotay had whispered.  
  
"Thank you," she replied, feeling inordinately overjoyed at his words. Then she had lost herself in the feeling of being held in his arms, the one and only time in the year she could dream that Chakotay belonged to her - a few precious minutes in which they moved as one, and in which she felt so connected to him that she wished the moments could last forever. She inhaled his cologne, the smell that was always Chakotay, one she had inhaled so many times when they had been lost together in a lonely quadrant and searching together for a way home. Then they had touched often, light teasing gestures that meant nothing...and everything...  
  
"And you smell good..." he replied. She thought he needed to say something, a compliment, luxurious moment in which there were no attachments.  
  
"Chakotay..." she said on a warning note, not wanting to lose the connection or wanting him to spoil the moment. "You're not mine...I'm not yours..." she whispered, smiling as he moved into a promenade position to the fall away step. "This is only a dance, remember?"  
  
"God, Kathryn...I wish - "  
  
"Don't..."  
  
"Kathryn..." it was a groan that escaped from him, one slip of concentration and they missed a step from which both recovered instantly so that few noticed the error. She wanted to press closer to him, wanted the dance to last forever, wanted to feel him in her arms and imagine that there was no Annika Hansen, no wedding she herself had presided over.... She wanted to feel all the old parameters she had damned on them both, evaporate, and then melt into him. The boundaries had vanished, a long time ago...  
  
"Please. Let's finish this and let me enjoy the dance tonight..."  
  
Chakotay had given a deep sigh, looked dashing as he graced her with a dimpled smile. Her heart had almost stopped, and then, on a light sigh, she had given herself over to his nearness and completing the perfection of their waltz. The applause when they finished rang dimly in her ears as she made her way to her table and joined her companion. She hadn't dared to look at Chakotay again, but knew that he had quickly moved to stand next to Annika Hansen. Her companion remarked that Chakotay had kept staring at Kathryn, but Kathryn had dismissed his words, telling him that he must be imagining it.  
  
"No, you don't understand, Kathryn. Chakotay can't keep his eyes off you and it's very noticeable. Everyone's looking at him and at you. That poor woman by his side... She looks lost, Kathryn."  
  
Kathryn had wanted to tell Andrew Ellerman that Chakotay had made his bed, that he had to live with a decision he made in the last few weeks on Voyager, just before they returned to the Alpha Quadrant. She had wanted to tell Andrew that she had been unaware of his new attachments and had dismissed the admiral's words with the supreme disdain that Chakotay belonged to her and no one else; he could not possibly be engaging in a liaison with anyone he didn't love... He was supposed to be waiting for the Captain of Voyager to say the words... How could she tell Andrew that it was not Chakotay's fault, and that she was the one who had so little faith in believing in him and placing her trust implicitly in him?  
  
Kathryn opened her eyes in the shuttle, surprised to find the bulkheads blurring. Touching her face, she realised that she must have been crying, although she was unaware of it.  
  
"Wrong, Andrew," she whispered. "I was the one who threw away chances... I was the one who gambled with happiness...and lost. And last year... oh, God..."  
  
She kept her eyes on the controls, realised she was almost in San Francisco, then prepared to land near the shuttle landing pads at Headquarters. Half an hour later she was back in her apartment after popping in at her office and checking with her aide for any new appointments.  
  
******************  
  
Why was she so melancholy? she thought as she made herself comfortable on her couch after she'd showered. On her lap she opened the photo album slowly, resting her eyes on the first photo. The years fell away as her eyes became tender at the memory.  
  
"Captain," Mariah Henley said a little shyly as she stood just outside Kathryn's quarters after the doors opened, "I wanted to give you this..."  
  
"Please do come in," she invited and Mariah smiled this time, holding the package close to her bosom.  
  
Kathryn sighed as she indicated Mariah take a seat next to her on the couch. The young woman was a member of the Maquis and in the beginning she had been belligerent, unable to fit in with the crew of Voyager. Now Mariah looked uncertain, almost afraid of her, still holding the package close.  
  
"So, what is it, Mariah?"  
  
"I hope you don't mind, Captain. The other night, when we celebrated - "  
  
"I thought it wouldn't go down well, but it did. I'm glad," Kathryn cut in before Mariah could continue.  
  
"Yes," Mariah responded with a half smile, "we're one crew now, Captain, and well, if it weren't for Tom Paris who asked you and Commander Chakotay to open the proceedings with a waltz... Well, I know he took bets and all, but, Captain, everyone said you looked beautiful..."  
  
"Thank you, Mariah."  
  
"And then I thought, when I begged the Doctor to lend me his imager, to take a few photos of you and the Commander dancing... I - I took the liberty of preparing this album, Captain."  
  
Mariah handed Kathryn the package and she quickly removed the wrapping. The album was a book with gold framed pages, and each page swung on tiny hinges. A photograph filled the first page and Kathryn gave a little gasp. It showed her and Chakotay executing a picture step, and Chakotay faced the imager, while her back was to the viewer, with her head and face turned swan-like looking directly into the camera. The colour was muted so that her diaphanous gown appeared like something emerging from the mist. Kathryn looked at Mariah.  
  
"I had no idea you were this good..." she whispered.  
  
"My brother taught me, Captain. He used to say it's not the lens that picks the moment, but the eye that can envision beauty. I - I followed his example."  
  
"It's beautiful, Mariah."  
  
"It's for you, Captain." Mariah smiled again, her eyes shining this time. Kathryn thought how just expressing appreciation could light the eyes of someone. Mariah basked in the compliment.  
  
"I - thank you. I see here you've indicated the star date at the bottom of the page. My guess is you've left the other pages blank because - "  
  
"It's one photograph for every year."  
  
"There are ten pages..."  
  
"I'm hoping that by the tenth year we'll be home..."  
  
"You have great faith in me, Mariah."  
  
"We have faith in our command team, Captain, and in our Voyager crew. It was a good celebration, one that we can have each year, and..."  
  
"And of course, the Captain and Commander Chakotay opening the ceremony with a waltz."  
  
"You were wonderful together."  
  
"We had only two days to practice, but I promise, next year we'll practice weeks ahead of time."  
  
"And we must see the Commander in his tails every year..." Mariah gave a sigh and Kathryn burst out laughing. "He looked so handsome and elegant. We've always just seen him in his Maquis attire and so rugged, none of us could believe that black tails could make him look...wow..."  
  
"Wow, indeed..."  
  
"Yes, and Captain, I'd like to take next year's photo too."  
  
"Certainly, Mariah. Thank you for this wonderful gift..."  
  
"It's been all the crew's pleasure, Captain."  
  
Kathryn's mind was drawn to the present again. She caressed the photograph, protected behind a thin film of cellophane-like material. It was she herself who coaxed Chakotay into replicating a tail suit with white bowtie, telling him that if they were to do a waltz, they had to look the part. Chakotay had given her a real jaundiced look before he succumbed.  
  
"It's that look of yours, Kathryn. How can I resist your request, when it's put so charmingly?"  
  
Kathryn sighed. She had worn a powder blue dress with thin straps and generously pasted with diamanté over the bodice. Wings were attached at the back of her choker and fixed on the wristband. The photograph made them look ethereal, professional. They had moved into a picture step and Mariah had caught the moment of complete enjoyment and exhilaration she and Chakotay experienced when they performed the waltz.  
  
That first year...things had been so untrammeled, so uncluttered with the complexities that had come to mark their association in later years.  
  
It showed in the photographs. The smiles became less, although the dresses remained as beautiful as ever, and Chakotay remained as suave and as darkly handsome as the dancers they had studied when they prepared for their training - the great Luca Baricchi, Craig Messina, Stanislav Vronsky...all brilliant dancers.  
  
"Oh, Mariah, we made it in less than ten years after all, yet you continued with the pictures..." Kathryn whispered to herself, her eyes softening at the last photograph. "It's the only record I'll ever have of the two of us like this, in perfect harmony," she whispered as she touched Chakotay's face. "I can claim nothing more. This is the last year for us... It is over, Chakotay. It's over. You have your Annika and her undying devotion to you. She has you by her side forever..." Kathryn stifled a little cry as emotion overtook her. "And I have this..."  
  
For a few moments she stared blankly at the photo, not seeing the perfection of the figures, the blurring a merciful release from the mocking pictures. Sighing, she put the album down next to her, closing her eyes as she leaned back against the couch. Chakotay and Annika would be back on Earth within a week. They would have little time to practice, and she wondered if Chakotay felt the same as she did. The burden of pretense weighed her down, especially since their return to the Alpha Quadrant. Was it for him the same too? She had seen the fire in his eyes...a fire that was in her own that day she had gone to see him in his office... She didn't want to think of that afternoon.  
  
It was time to call a halt to the tradition. It was fun in those first two years, when they had gone into the whole thing with little inhibition and just the prospect of enjoyment and doing something they both knew the crew enjoyed - seeing the Captain and the First Officer together. She had few illusions in those first years, knowing that the crew were romantic and that they thought the idea of their captain and first officer teaming up for more than just a dance would fire their poor romantic notions.  
  
Then the void happened. Too many things happened. More and more she became aware of her mission; more and more the guilt ate at her when she thought she failed them; more and more she hardened herself and wrote Duty and Discipline on the chambers of her heart. What was it she heard a passing crewman say one day? They're stone tablets, the chambers of her heart. Stone tablets on which the ship's commandments were written, with the Federation her god whom she followed religiously without regard for personal happiness.  
  
Kathryn clutched at her breast at that thought. It was so unreal. She became so close with Chakotay, smiling, teasing, enjoying each other's company, having regular dinner dates in which they just talked shop. Yet, there was the underlying reality. They were close, yet so far apart and Chakotay, after New Earth, turned on the charm and assuaged her faith in him as a brilliant first officer and friend and she knew with heartbreaking conviction that he was hiding.  
  
What did he hide? Everything. Everything she had been too blind to acknowledge. For to do that, meant that she had to relinquish a part of her she needed for herself. Somewhere during their time on New Earth - maybe it was the day she admitted that she'd have to remain there forever and make a home with him, she realised how much a part of her life he had become. After that, he revealed himself only fleetingly, when a quick glance from her caught him with his heart in his eyes.  
  
Kathryn drew in a deep breath. She had known that last month on Voyager about his dates with Seven, wrote it off as something that, she believed arrogantly, would blow over soon, that he was biding his time and waiting for her.  
  
Then the day they had to disembark... A whole night she had lain awake thinking about him, and thinking about relinquishing her own commandments. It had been a journey into the deepest recesses of her heart; the catharsis so liberating that by morning her decision was made. Why had it been so easy then? Why had the light of enlightenment dawned so late on her in those dark hours she had lain in her bed? It ordered her to relinquish her fears; told her that she could trust her instincts and let herself feel again. It came into her heart, the dawning, the understanding, little bits at first, all the memories of them together for seven years, image upon image in which she saw Chakotay smile, angered, concerned, protective, her comrade, her helper... images of Chakotay as he touched her hand in solace when a crewmember died, or when she felt depressed... It was life-altering, the way the light filled her being, a total release of inhibitions. She wanted Chakotay, wanted him by her side, wanted to dance with him the dance of life and love.  
  
She had gotten up from the bed in great haste. She couldn't wait for when they were together on the bridge, or in her ready room. She went to his cabin to tell him. She had practised the words over and over what she'd say to him.  
  
"I've been blind, Chakotay.... I love you. I've loved you for a long time..."  
  
She had imagined Chakotay's response, pictured his eyes lighting up with joy, the dimples that would form the moment he smiled. She imagined how his eyes would never leave her as he drew her into his arms. She even imagined the words he would speak.  
  
"Come, Kathryn, my love. Stand here close to my heart and feel how it beats in unison with yours. I am at peace at last..."  
  
Kathryn imagined how she would ask him to forgive her for making him wait, and anticipated his response. He'd tell her there was nothing to forgive, because his joy was complete and his peace enveloped them both. There was so much more a sense of poetry and beauty in Chakotay that she knew he would express himself in that way. Her feet had carried her faster and faster to his quarters, and her heart had raced, the final peace she felt herself in finally making a decision for her and her life's happiness settling in her being.  
  
His doors opened. She didn't think it was necessary to knock.  
  
We've decided to make our home on Ketarcha Prime as soon as the debriefings are over, Kathryn....  
  
The realisation that Annika was in Chakotay's quarters that early in the morning... Had she been so blind then? Annika Hansen was standing in Chakotay's embrace, looking blissfully happy, her face and eyes animated as she had never seen before. Chakotay smiled his dimpled smile, his eyes shining...only it wasn't for her, but the woman whom he held protectively in his embrace.  
  
I'm supposed to be standing there, Chakotay...next to you, held in your arms...  
  
She had nodded, murmured pleasantries, and when Chakotay asked why she had come to his quarters, she had already put all her masks in place and smiled at them both.  
  
"I had an idea I'd see both of you here and wanted to wish you personally a happy life together," she had replied.  
  
"Thank you. It means a lot to us that you came, Kathryn."  
  
"We will come to Earth every year, Captain," Annika offered.  
  
"We'll all still have the joy of your company then."  
  
Her heart had already broken, the stone tablets on which all her commandments were written, lay shattered about her feet. Yet, she could look at Chakotay and Seven of Nine and wish them happiness and prosperity in their work on Ketarcha Prime.  
  
Kathryn woke from her reverie, feeling again how damp her cheeks were. Yes, she did pick up her heart and patch the pieces together and strengthened herself once again. No one could see the scar tissue, so no one could see how she still hurt every time she saw Chakotay and Annika together. Yes, they danced again, and now, in their third year at home, they were to resume their tradition of marking the joining of the Maquis and Starfleet crew into a Voyager crew; they would again dance...  
  
If only she could obliterate what she felt...  
  
She'd be happy again.  
  
******************  
  
Kathryn was early in her office the next morning. Lieutenant Shanath, young Bolian, was already busy preparing her appointments for the day, and the woman flitted about the two rooms with uncommon energy.  
  
"You're too industrious this early in the morning, Shanath," Kathryn said as she entered her office, murmuring a soft, "good morning" to her aide.  
  
"Good morning, Admiral. Admiral, you have a full list of appointments today, and in half an hour you're to see Admiral Paris for a short consultation..."  
  
"Ah yes, the prospective applicants for the USS Pretoria. That should keep me busy most of the morning."  
  
"And Admiral, I see my brother is one of the applicants."  
  
"He told you he was going to apply for Science Officer, I take it."  
  
"Chell studied very hard the last two years. He wasn't happy with just getting a field commission - "  
  
"I know. He wanted to be properly Starfleet. Since our return a number of the Voyager crew went to the Academy to do fresher courses."  
  
Kathryn had seated herself behind her desk and flicked on her vid-com, listening to her aide at the same time.  
  
"He says he has to be at the anniversary first and nothing was going to keep him away."  
  
"Yes," Kathryn responded distractedly, "the Pretoria leaves two days later from Deep Space Nine."  
  
"Everyone's excited, Admiral. We have already ninety four percent confirmation from Voyager crew. The others are all in deep space and won't be able to make it..."  
  
"That's most of the crew," Kathryn responded, smiling up at Shanath who stopped and stared at her. "What...?"  
  
"Just the look on your face, Admiral. There's been no confirmation from Professor Chakotay..."  
  
She didn't want to tell Shanath that she knew Chakotay had not sent confirmation yet, although he would probably come. It's why she had the new dress made...  
  
"I know, Shanath. But don't worry. There's to be an exhibition of Ketarchan ancient artefacts at the Academy, and the professor has made arrangements with the Academy faculty head."  
  
"Admiral?"  
  
Kathryn smiled.  
  
"I received notice on my way here, from Admiral Paris."  
  
"So you're going to dance again, Admiral?" Shanath asked, unable to keep the excitement from her voice or her eyes from shining.  
  
"You're a hopeless romantic, Lieutenant."  
  
"I don't care! I hear it will be the last anniversary. Who knows, things will change..."  
  
Kathryn frowned. Mariah Henley and Chell were great friends. The news must have come from her.  
  
"Things change?"  
  
"Everyone can see that the Admiral and the Professor belong together, if you don't mind my saying so, Admiral."  
  
"Perhaps," Kathryn replied a little stiffly, "we'd should just get on with our work?"  
  
"Aye, Admiral," Shanath sighed.  
  
************ 


	3. The Anniversary Waltz

PART THREE  
  
Ketarcha Prime  
  
"There, that's the last of the artefacts," Chakotay said as he watched how the workers had packed all the pieces in the crates. "You're looking very pleased, Rojan."  
  
"Indeed I am, Professor. It's an honour to help you supervise the exhibition at your Starfleet Academy."  
  
"You're going to have to keep an eye on this one," Chakotay reminded him as both watched Annika Hansen work on the Primos Urn. She was standing a little away from them, at a workbench, preparing to secure the Urn of the Potter of Primos, dubbed by all the students and volunteers as the Peace Urn. It looked more beautiful now, because of its clinical surroundings, projecting its unnatural beauty within the confines of the large science lab as a sharp contrast between ancient and modern. He had been drawn to the artefact from the second he laid eyes on it, an irresistible urge to keep looking at the images of men and women frozen for all time in dance. For a moment a image of the Goddess of Virtue, moving gracefully in the arms of the warrior, flashed before him. Indeed a Peace Urn. He still remained in awe at its beauty as he watched Annika work setting the forcefields. Annika looked impassive as she worked, and Chakotay shrugged inwardly. Annika had shown none of the breathless wonder of almost everyone who had see the urn in the last week, even when Rojan informed her that it had special powers that would heal those who looked at it. She had given the young man a cool, sceptical look, and Rojan had backed off, saying, "Then again, it's a myth." Chakotay gave a little sigh. In the last year Annika tried so hard... Then the urn drew his attention again. He had dismissed the historical records that made a vague reference to the vessel coming to life when two of same heart looked at it. He hadn't told Annika that, although she must have heard it from the students. Once - was it only two days ago? - he caught her staring fixedly at the ancient artefact.  
  
"It looks very cool, aloof," Chakotay continued a little absently.  
  
Rojan's voice dropped to a whisper. "Annika?"  
  
"Annika is not an 'it', Rojan."  
  
"I'll remember that, Professor," Rojan replied, looking a little chastised after Chakotay gave him a withering look. They approached Annika.  
  
"How's it going?" he asked her.  
  
Annika did not look up as she replied. "No one will be able to touch the urn, Chakotay. I've erected a primary and two secondary forcefields. Only you and Rojan will have the encryption codes. Once someone breaches the outer field and then touches the urn, he will be hit by a series of electrical shocks. There'll be enough to render the perpetrator immobile for at least five hours." Annika paused, look for a few long seconds at Chakotay.  
  
"There's more."  
  
"Yes. The two secondary forcefields are undetectable, even with Starfleet's most sophisticated equipment. This...information should not leave this room..."  
  
"Understood." Chakotay cast Rojan a glance, and the young Ketarchan nodded severely. Word had already gone out that a rare artefact had been discovered on Ketarcha Prime, and in the last few days, the Council of Ordinance has had to triple the security at all the heritage sites to prevent possible plundering. There were reputed to be two more urns...  
  
"And what about the security in the room?"  
  
"The Security staff at the Academy will be responsible for that," Annika replied. Her mouth curved into a half smile as he touched her shoulder.  
  
"Thank you."  
  
"You could have done this yourself, Chakotay," she said.  
  
"I wanted you to have a part in this. That's one pretty intensive forcefield you've created."  
  
It warmed him to see the glow return to her eyes. She was human enough to bask in the compliment he had given her. He sighed again. On Voyager everyone simply assumed she didn't need complimenting, or reminding that she was as vulnerable to human foibles as everyone else, because she was Borg. The designation, although leaning in the last years to "ex-Borg" or "former Borg", still was not enough to eradicate the unfair discrimination in the way she was labeled. Annika simply went ahead with her tasks and expected no expression of thanks.  
  
"It was a pleasure to work on the vessel."  
  
"The legend says that the figures will dance of two people look at it," Rojan said softly, awed again by the beauty of the urn.  
  
"It's a myth, Rojan."  
  
"But, Professor," Rojan started, a little urgent in the way his eyes seemed to plead for understanding, "you said yourself that there is truth in myth..."  
  
"Yes...I did say that, didn't I? I'm not so sure now..."  
  
"I am certain it will be admired for its appearance alone and its historical significance," Rojan said.  
  
"Well then, that settles it. Annika, we're done here for now. Shall we go?"  
  
For a moment Chakotay thought Annika would refuse and elect to stay behind for an hour or two. She appeared reluctant to move away from the urn, but when he touched her shoulder gently, she nodded her compliance.  
  
************  
  
Annika shifted, moaned softly in her sleep, then relaxed into even breathing again. She lay on her side, facing the window. The darkness of the room was softened by the light from the moon; a stray wisp of a deep gold ray touched her face and gave it a glow of peacefulness.  
  
Chakotay thought how she could sleep like a little child, oblivious to the world and its tribulations, yet only hours before she had responded to him with an intensity that more than anything, indicated her state of mind. She was unhappy, yet showed no signs of being deeply distressed. It was her way, and like so many individuals he knew, Annika had become just as adept at putting on masks.  
  
He lay spooned behind her, still too alert to sleep. Tonight, he hurt her and he couldn't think of any way to undo it. She hadn't said anything, but her face creased for an instantly only, then the pain was suppressed. He hadn't been in any mood for intimacies, although he wanted to curse himself when she initiated foreplay and he frowned at her attempt when she touched him. When he saw her look he had been immediately contrite. She hadn't rejected his own overtures, and gradually she had succumbed, grown soft in his arms while he murmured how sorry he was.  
  
In the past it had been so easy, so uncomplicated and Annika had heightened his own sexual appetite with her own generous responses, never refusing him when he wanted to make love to her. That first year... Annika had come into his life and healed in a way, his own desperate longing, the terrible rejection he felt all the years on Voyager. He had craved hopelessly for a woman whom he knew with an instinct born of the ages, he would love deeply forever. As the years went by, as the heartless teasing turned him into a frustrated man who succeeded in suppressing all his needs and went about his job learning to sidestep any intimacies he knew would be offered only to be withdrawn moments later, he no longer thought consciously of his own broken heart.  
  
Now, he was doing the same thing to Annika. The remorseful, conciliatory offers to make love to her becoming more and more the norm. It shamed him and it hurt her and now, with painful clarity, he realised how on Voyager Kathryn's advances to him afterwards never did appease him and always, he had become wary of her gestures, always suspecting it was merely to placate him. He was a man, and it cut his ego deeply, although he knew that Kathryn's essential motivation was for preservation and the need to distance herself from anything that might deter her from her primary mission. She had always felt personally responsible for her crew's welfare; there was no time for emotional intimacies. The establishment of parameters and the adherence to protocol became her safety nets. He had seen on and off the responding glow in Kathryn's eyes, but the reality was a forceful reminder that on her side, it was something she allowed only temporarily to inhabit her before it was whisked away somewhere and hidden from sight.  
  
Seven years... It was a long time for a man to go hungry. His feelings, his hopeless love had become such a part of him that it became easy to believe it wasn't there at all. He had been drawn to Annika when he noticed how she had become affectionate, how she made him feel needed in her life. It warmed him to know that at least to someone he had grown to like and admire, thought him special. Annika had done something then for which she had been carpeted by the Captain and which he had thought was an invasion of his privacy. Making a hologram of any fellow crewmember as the object of affection indicated a wrongful, intrusive action. Looking deeper into what she had done, he had realised with a soaring disbelief then, that he could be an object of Annika's affection. It was wrong of her, but stroked his battered ego, and it also thrilled him secretly. So he basked in her goodness, in her own tentative exploration of her attachment to him. The friendship they started after he had always been so suspicious because he didn't trust the Borg deepened and he admired her readiness to be as human as the next person and cry, weep, express joy if she wanted to. In the privacy of their cabins he saw an Annika Hansen that had been hidden from the rest of the crew. She had been afraid in that last month on Voyager that she'd lose him and wanted to release him from all commitments he made to her. It was then only that he realised the depth of her feelings. His assurances to the contrary were met not with the scepticism he thought, but an almost pathetic entreaty that someone can love her and belong to her, and that someone could fulfill her needs just as he had desired for seven years to be fulfilled.  
  
It was a good year, that first year. He could forget his own heartache, and get on with his life and be happy. He could forget the look of surprise in Kathryn's eyes the day she came to his cabin and saw him standing, holding Annika in his embrace. It had been easy, for he could concentrate on someone who loved him unconditionally.  
  
Annika had no conditions. She loved fully, with the capacity to give wholeheartedly in a relationship that meant the world to her.  
  
It was only that first year. Then the bubble, their cocoon of togetherness began to disintegrate. It was not Annika's fault.  
  
They should have stopped the tradition of the anniversary the moment they arrived in the Alpha Quadrant.  
  
They danced again, and the moment Kathryn Janeway floated into his arms, he knew with a sinking heartache that he could never forget. He looked into her eyes as they moved on the floor, and he saw in them the mirror of his love. He tried to ignore it; the rest of that evening he stayed close to Annika, and he breathed a sigh of relief when two months later, after his stint at the Academy, they could both hurry back to Ketarcha Prime.  
  
When Annika stirred in her sleep, Chakotay trailed to the present. He nuzzled closer, hearing her moan softly before she settled into deep sleep again. Chakotay moved, careful not to disturb her and when he stood next to the bed, looked down on her sleeping form. A nerve twitched in his jaw. Tonight, like so many other nights and times in the last months, he couldn't connect, his own restlessness increased by a new and old hunger.  
  
Sighing, he pulled on his robe and walked to the alcove. He sat down heavily, sighed again before switching on the computer. Entering a few codes, he found the files. Seven years on Voyager...seven anniversaries, seven waltzes... Kathryn swaying into his arms that first year they danced for the benefit of the crew. It had been fun then, both of them enjoying the moment, the jokes, the laughter. Then the suggestion that they do it the following year.  
  
We need to practice for a few days to make it look better than last year, Chakotay  
  
You look good in white tie and tails, Commander.  
  
Wear the beautiful dress you wore last year, Captain...  
  
Don't be ridiculous, Commander. I've got to have a new dress. What will Luca Baricchi say?  
  
Same time as last year, Captain?  
  
Affirmative, Commander  
  
A soft cry escaped. His hands clenched convulsively as he watched the graceful Kathryn. She had always been feather-light in his arms, a weightless gliding about the floor. She was radiant... Kathryn who smiled as she looked at him and performed a fall-away picture step...  
  
I could hold you forever in my arms, Kathryn...  
  
On and on the images moved, haunted him, year after year played out, each year a waltz danced to a different twentieth century song Tom Paris provided. Last year it had been "When you believe..." Chakotay's eyes closed as he tried to blot out the images and the memories while his unwilling fingers refused to obey his command to shut down the vid-com. Still they came... Kathryn as light as a cloud in his arms; Kathryn's smile as the dance ended; Kathryn moving to join her partner as if the miracle of their dance never happened.  
  
"No more...no more..." he murmured. "No more..."  
  
"Chakotay?"  
  
His eyes flew open and he saw Annika stand in the entrance of the alcove.  
  
"Annika... I - " Annika smiled, a sad smile. He switched off the vid-com and the chair scraped sharply as he rose to his feet. He pulled her into his embrace; she resisted only a moment before she relaxed against him. "Let's go to bed..." he murmured against her hair. "Let's go to bed..."  
  
***************  
  
Chakotay gaped at Annika in disbelief.  
  
"What did you say?" he asked, looking up from his duffel on the bed.  
  
"I'm not going with you."  
  
He walked to her and gripped her shoulders with a desperate urgency.  
  
"I need you with me, Annika. We've always gone together. We're due on Earth in five days!"  
  
"It would be better if you went alone."  
  
"To the anniversary celebration, you mean?"  
  
"I mean, alone to Earth, Chakotay."  
  
He wanted to shake her. She was resolute. In desperation he pulled her to him and held her tightly. He felt the slight trembling again like the previous night. He knew she had seen the dances, heard the music when he played the vid-com images. It couldn't have been easy on her. He knew that she knew. Maybe she had always known, especially since the last visit to Earth. She had been unhappy for weeks. But he made a commitment to her, a silent vow of his faithfulness. He didn't want to hurt her. When he held her a little away from him, he cupped the sides of her head.  
  
"Don't leave me, Annika. I can't do this if you're not with me. I need to have you by my side - "  
  
"For what? A safety net, as you call it?"  
  
"Yes...no!" He dropped his hands, looked a little defeated. Annika hit at the core of his tribulation. "You know what I mean. I'll not leave you, Annika."  
  
Annika's eyes closed. Did she look relieved at his renewed vow? Did she accept his assurance? When she looked at him again, her eyes were moist. She swallowed back the tears.  
  
"You only need my protection. I can't do that anymore. You make love to me, yet you never connect to me, the way it was in that first year. Let me go, Chakotay."  
  
"Annika, I made a decision three years ago. I wanted you because you - "  
  
"Fulfilled a need, only temporarily."  
  
Chakotay shook his head. He was making it worse, he knew. Nothing that came from his mouth came out right.  
  
"You know that's not true. Don't demean what we have, Annika."  
  
He pulled her closer again, tried to feel the magic that had been there before. There was nothing, except the old springing in his loins when she pressed into him. Did she do it deliberately? He felt his arousal press against her and gave a sigh.  
  
"That's what I am to you, Chakotay. That's all I am..."  
  
"Annika! Listen to me! I will not leave you, you understand?"  
  
Annika gave a sigh, moved out of his embrace, and when she spoke, her voice was hollow.  
  
"You left me, Chakotay... A long time ago. It was good, what we had. You mean the world to me, you know. I have never loved another being, never felt close to another person as I have with you. I - I felt wholly human, a complete being. I've grown... Perhaps..." Annika sighed and Chakotay looked stunned. "We need to do this..."  
  
"Then don't leave me. We can deal with this. Just this once. I - I admit...I want to know you're there, with me..."  
  
"I understand. Perhaps more than you know. Last year, Chakotay...a few days after the celebration, I saw you kiss her, and - and I knew..."  
  
His eyes closed.  
  
That day Annika had returned unexpectedly from Utopia Planitia and entered his office. Kathryn had been there, to tell him to leave her alone, that they make their final goodbyes. He couldn't help it... He was weak. He had pulled Kathryn into his arms and when their lips touched, the world exploded about them. Kathryn had returned his kisses with so much pent-up passion, so much longing, he had held her closer to him as if he would never let her go. It was their good-bye kiss. The last time they would touch. An unspoken vow that he'd keep away from her.  
  
Then Annika came in. How long had she stood there?  
  
They had never spoken about it and it lay like a spectre between them, mostly ignored, but always present. They had returned to Ketarcha Prime and he had been witness to her unaccustomed melancholy for weeks. Yet, he had tried, knowing how the scene in his office had unsettled her. He tried and succeeded to an extent to dispel her worries, her extreme reluctance to his attempts at intimacy in those first weeks back home. He hadn't given up and rejoiced with her the night when they made love again. He was glad, for they were close again, and Kathryn for a while at least, subsided to that corner of his heart where sometimes, when he looked at the flying condors, he missed her like his very breath.  
  
But forbearance became more and more difficult, a Sisyphus attempt to forget...  
  
"Please...come with me, Annika."  
  
She relented, stepping into his embrace again and resting her head against his shoulder.  
  
"I love you, Chakotay. I don't know if I can stop. But I can see in your eyes, it is over. However, I will accompany you to Earth. Then I ask that you must come to some decision about our future. It is necessary for my peace of mind...and yours. Whatever you decide, I will abide by it...." Annika gave a crooked little smile. "I'm accustomed to adapting..."  
  
Chakotay held her back, but didn't release her. For endless seconds he just stared at her, weighing her words, accepting the wisdom of it. He nodded sombrely.  
  
"Whatever I decide..."  
  
*************** 


	4. The Anniversary Waltz

PART FOUR  
  
The exhibition of Ketarcha Prime artefacts attracted the attention of most Academy cadets as well as the teaching staff, and those at Starfleet Command. Housed in a special suite, the centrepiece of the exhibition stood in a small room about the same size as the darkened underground room in which Chakotay found the Primos Urn. He had created with the help of Rojan, his most trusted student and helper, the same conditions, and only the natural glow of the urn threw any sort of light in the room.  
  
It did look aloof and distant, yet welcoming and warm at the same time, according to Rojan, who had acted as if he were the sole owner and benefactor of the exhibition. His eyes had already adjusted to the darkness whenever he stepped into the special room where only the Primos Urn stood. Most of the visitors were back in their classes or offices, with only one or two still lounging about. He'd have to wait until they have left before he could secure the place and enjoy the wonders of the holosuites.  
  
Kathryn Janeway waited till the traffic subsided before she made her first visit to the exhibition suite. She hadn't deliberately avoided Chakotay, but kept busy most of the time they had been setting up the artefacts. She just didn't want to see him while he was still settling in with Annika. These days they were peripheral friends, and colleagues. While Annika Hansen was never proprietorial, her unconscious bearing was something that excluded the intrusion of others whenever they were together.  
  
Business was getting prepared for the dance, then they could get on with their lives. This time, Kathryn was calling an official halt to the annual celebration. It was time it stopped. The only pressing thing was rehearsing for the dance. They were due for their practice session at 1700 at the Academy's holosuites, and she had programmed Luca and Loraine Baricchi as the dancers who took them through their paces. She had gone back to Paris to collect her dress and had been hugged by Raoul when she fitted on the completed garment, now with its glitter of rhinestones all over the bodice.  
  
She thought of Chakotay again. He had only hailed her on her vid-com to announce their arrival in San Francisco. He had looked somewhat strained, but was friendly as he had always been towards her in the last three years. Their old friendship, the camaraderie, the intense satisfaction of knowing he was around was something that had to be stored away somewhere permanent. Their communication was short, just the normal arrangements for the anniversary bash. She understood. He was calling her from their apartment and no doubt Annika Hansen was with him. She thought how strange it was that they could never get back on the same footing they had been for so many years on Voyager. She just couldn't bring herself to appropriate Chakotay's time and demand the status quo. She had been too shocked three years ago, and the minute she recovered from her shock, had rallied and labeled it as an opportunity lost. What she felt, her love that still at times made her wake up in a sweat in the middle of the night, was irrelevant.  
  
She gave a little sigh as she walked around, studied the pieces, then slowly made her way towards the Urn Room.  
  
"I will be locking up shortly," a voice from the dark depths spoke.  
  
"You must be Rojan," Kathryn said, her eyes immediately drawn to the urn in the middle of the room.  
  
In the dark she could see the young man, and he stared at her for several seconds. Kathryn gave a little smile. Perhaps her rank was unfamiliar to him, though a number of admirals had already been on their first visits to the exhibition.  
  
"Admiral...Admiral - "  
  
"Janeway. Kathryn Janeway."  
  
It wasn't that she ignored Rojan, but her attention was fixed on the object that seemed to beckon her. It reached for her with eager moving fingers, calling her forward, inviting her to touch it. She edged closer, and was about to touch the urn when Rojan's hand covered hers instantly.  
  
"It is protected by a forcefield, Admiral Janeway."  
  
"I know. It's just irresistible to want to touch it..." she said reflectively.  
  
"You're not the first to have that desire, Admiral."  
  
Kathryn smiled as she disobeyed his warning and held her palm close to the urn, careful not to touch the forcefield. She sucked in her breath. The urn was beautiful; it reminded her of ancient Earth artefacts. The figures - one couple in long flowing robes depicted in different poses - were caught in movement, or rather moments, it seemed to her.. It fascinated her and when she felt a slight vibration against her hand, she gasped and drew her hand quickly away from the urn.  
  
"Admiral, did your fingers touch the forcefield?" Rojan asked, concern in his voice.  
  
Kathryn was absolutely certain that she hadn't touched it, yet it felt to her as if the figures wanted to communicate with her, wanted to tell her of some old, ancient ritual of Ketarcha Prime. She had read up the planet's ancient civilisation and cultures, but this surprised her.  
  
"It moved..." she whispered, a little stunned. "It moved..."  
  
"Admiral, you must be imagining it," Rojan suggested. "I can't see any movement."  
  
"No, I can assure you it did - "  
  
"I thought Admirals didn't believe in myths." Kathryn cast him a sharp glance.  
  
"You don't understand. My fingers weren't close enough to the forcefield to activate it. I - I'm certain I felt the images move."  
  
"Do you know the myth of the Urn of Primos, Admiral?" Rojan asked and Kathryn nodded, too mute to answer him, her eyes still drawn to the object in front of her. It became even more luminous the moment she had come closer to it, as if it responded to her or her body heat or, as improbable as it sounded, to her emotions.  
  
"I've read the brochures. It said only that the Goddess of Virtue danced with a warrior in her attempt to bring about peace on Ketarcha Prime, eight thousand years ago."  
  
"Admiral, you mean you haven't heard?"  
  
"Heard what? This is my first visit here. I...haven't been very attentive, I must admit."  
  
"There's a myth surrounding the urn. It says that when two persons of the same heart look at it, the figures will start to move into dance."  
  
Kathryn was tempted to tell Rojan the idea was ludicrous, but her own reaction to the artefact and the way it seemed to radiate the closer she came to it... She wasn't certain anymore. She was a scientist; what she saw went beyond scientific belief.  
  
"Of the same heart?"  
  
"Professor Chakotay dismissed the idea too, Admiral, though he was the first one to tell me that there is always truth in myth. That was when he was still searching for the Primos Urn."  
  
"You're saying I don't believe you?"  
  
"I think - "  
  
"Can't you see the radiance is stronger the moment I bring my hand closer? And I can tell you now, Rojan, it's not the forcefield emanating those signals. I know what I'm talking about..." She had no more words as she absorbed the strange power of the urn, allowing it to become familiar within her. What signs it portended she guarded intimately, for they were meant for her, she believed. It was an ancient myth of another culture, yet she felt an attachment as if she were Ketarchan, or Mesopotamian, or a priestess of the Ancient Oracles of Drugara. She was all of them and she was Kathryn Janeway, a scientist who was sceptical about myth and the mystical power of objects.  
  
They were both silent for a few minutes, pondering on what happened. Rojan still appeared a little sceptical, although Kathryn could put her scientific mind aside and accept what she experienced. So she said, as if to emphasise her belief, "Something has happened, and the urn radiates more light in here..."  
  
"Then I must tell you there must be some connection, Admiral. It is an emotional connection rather a tactile one?"  
  
"Yes," she admitted softly, her heart still beating erratically. "It's wanting to tell me something..." Again she felt the urn beckon her, drawing her closer and closer. The figures looked lonely, cast in the silence of thousands of years, caught in a timeless moment. Something must set it into motion. Two hearts... Rojan looked at her keenly for several seconds, his mouth opening then closing as if something dawned on him and he wanted to say something, then changed his mind. Kathryn picked up the vibe instantly. The young man stared at her as if...  
  
"What is it, Rojan? You look as if you've just seen the Goddess of Virtue..." Rojan was quiet so long that she touched his arm in a reassuring gesture. "It's okay. I'll not coerce you into revealing anything..."  
  
Then Rojan, comforted by her words, found his voice again. "I have to tell you that they haven't danced yet, Admiral, although many couples have come in here..."  
  
"That surely doesn't mean anything...it would be a bad day for business if couples failed the 'test'," she responded.  
  
"Perhaps, Admiral. Then again, all who had been here before you know it is waiting." The young student was all of a sudden very enigmatic when he spoke again. It was in his voice, in the way he smiled, in the way his eyes locked with hers and held her gaze. "The Urn of Primos is waiting..."  
  
"Waiting?" she asked, as if she didn't sense the answer already. "For what, Rojan?"  
  
"For the two hearts that will make it come alive."  
  
Kathryn nodded again solemnly, the spell broken when she stepped away towards the entrance of the room. Her eyes had become accustomed to the dark almost the moment had stepped into the room, and the glow from the urn waned the further she moved away from it. Then she realised belatedly that the young Ketarchan student was about to lock up anyway, and she greeted him before making her exit from the Exhibition Suite. Her heart was full of the wonder of what she experienced, yet it left her also sad as she walked back to her office. The sky had turned grey, though not storm clouds that formed, but rather an overall dreary-like colour that she realised, suited her mood. She was deeply melancholy, thinking of Chakotay and of the lonely Goddess and her warrior waiting to come to life.  
  
********************  
  
"And you say you have found the one?"  
  
Rojan nodded. The Ketarchan High Priest's eyes looked alert, although he was already more than one hundred and fifty years old. His pointed ears pricked constantly. Rojan could hardly contain his own excitement.  
  
"I believe she is the one, Excellency. The urn trembled at her nearness."  
  
"You have not told her anything about our Goddess of Virtue?"  
  
"No more than what she knows already."  
  
"Then she does not know that she is the embodiment of our Goddess?"  
  
"I think she may suspect something, Excellency, although she said it in jest. I am afraid I must have given away much by my surprise. The Urn is responding to her emotions."  
  
"But the real test must still be. It is the reason we have given Professor Chakotay permission to take the urn to Earth and to other homeworlds, so that our search for our Goddess can begin. There is no one on Ketarcha Prime."  
  
"I know that, Excellency. I also believe that Professor Chakotay must be the completion of the Unification."  
  
The old priest closed his eyes and when he looked at Rojan again, there was intense joy emanating from him.  
  
"He does not know that?"  
  
"I do not think that he is considering that possibility, Excellency. He already has a mate - "  
  
" - but his heart is waiting."  
  
"Yes, Excellency."  
  
"Do not inform Professor Chakotay of anything yet, Rojan. He must discover the completion of his heart himself."  
  
"Although I think, Excellency, that Professor Chakotay already knows."  
  
"It shall be his test too, good Rojan. Encourage Admiral Janeway to visit the Exhibition again..."  
  
Rojan smiled. It was getting very, very interesting. He was extremely keen to know how all of what must still happen that would affect a few Earthlings. He didn't think it would be any trouble encouraging the Admiral to come again. She had a mystical connection to the urn. Professor Chakotay's own mate, Annika Hansen, had already handled the urn and she didn't seem in any way attached to the artefact. No, it was not meant for Annika Hansen, even though she had done the work of securing the urn.  
  
"Yes, Excellency. I think Admiral Janeway is finding her bond to the urn overpowering. She will be unable to stay away from the exhibition. I may not need to encourage her. I expect to see her here again tomorrow...."  
  
"That is good. You have done well, Rojan."  
  
"I thank you, Excellency."  
  
A moment later Rojan sat back in his chair, still a little astounded at what he had discovered. They had not told Professor Chakotay of their mission. Knowing that it had to be as natural as possible without creating a flood of hopefuls, the inclusion of the urn as the primary attraction of the exhibition was mainly for them to find the one person who could make the Goddess of Virtue come to life. If the Professor knew, he would have become obsessed at finding someone who was far away from Earth. The mirror to his soul was right there, in full view of the Professor. It would have to happen as naturally as possible, otherwise... Rojan sighed with great contentment. No one, except the High Priest of Ketarcha knew what would happen. Even he didn't know much. The figures would dance, but how?  
  
***********  
  
"Computer, end programme."  
  
In an instant Luca and Loraine Baricchi disappeared and the holosuite looked again cold with its yellow-grey grid. Kathryn gathered up her bag and towel and headed for the door of the holosuite.  
  
"Kathryn..."  
  
She gave an inward sigh. Chakotay looked unhappy, although the session had gone well. They had all their lines for the dance well memorised and practiced them for two solid hours, with Luca and Loraine patiently guiding, admonishing, then heaping praise when she had Chakotay completed three rounds without missing a step or losing their timing. They had been playing several waltzes in a continuous track and the music had somehow calmed her inside so that she didn't notice Chakotay's broad chest, feel his heartbeat quicken against her, or the way his fingers gripped her hand. She smiled, inclined her head, moved gracefully.  
  
Now, his voice sounded urgent, even lost. So she turned round to face him, her movement deliberate that he know he was holding her up.  
  
"What is it, Chakotay?"  
  
"We never talk, you know," it rushed from him.  
  
"What should we talk about?" she asked, using the towel to dab her neck. He came closer to her, reaching with both hands in some entreaty. When she didn't respond to his gesture, his arms slumped to his sides.  
  
"We were friends, once, Kathryn."  
  
"And that qualifies for open-hearted sharing now, three years later?"  
  
She knew she sounded shrewish, but the image of Seven of Nine's face when she entered Chakotay's office and saw them kissing... It rocked her up hard. They had both succumbed to the temptation of touch and it was wrong...  
  
"What happened to the camaraderie we had, Kathryn?"  
  
"Why don't you add to that the odd visits to my quarters or your quarters, or the evening talks over coffee, or you massaging my aching muscles, or - "  
  
"Kathryn, please..."  
  
"It's no longer there, Chakotay. You made a choice three years ago. I - "  
  
"I know what you feel. It was there, in our kiss last year. You can't deny it." He stood closer to her.  
  
"Back off, Chakotay. In three days we will dance, for the last time. I'll make that announcement. It serves no purpose anymore."  
  
"That's it? You see this as a chore? Not something we enjoyed every year, even last year? Kathryn, please... It's - it's all I have...to - to make a memory for another year..."  
  
She stepped closer to him and touched his cheek. It was a gentle touch, and Kathryn felt him lean against her palm. She wanted to cry, knew that her eyes were moist. A lump formed in her throat. She swallowed hard.  
  
"A memory..."  
  
"Yes..." he said softly, closing his eyes.  
  
"It's all I have, you know. Making a memory of our waltz..." A flash of a photo-album, nine photographs... Mariah Henley's warm, shy smile...  
  
"I was a fool..."  
  
Did her heart want to break in those moments? Something - a fist - squeezed her heart. It was a pain so fierce that she stifled the urge to cry out. For a few moments she breathed erratically until she could settle again. Her hand that had cupped his cheek was taken in his and held tightly against his chest. She prayed for the moment to go away. It was wrong. They were giving in to temptation again.  
  
"Chakotay..." she whispered, opening her eyes to look at him. She saw her own pain reflected there, saw the honour. He would never hurt Seven...  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"You were not a fool, Chakotay. You waited. I don't blame you..." There was a long pause and for a moment only, she rested her head against his chest. Sighing, she stood away from him, breaking the contact and the connection. Picking up her bag again and slinging it over her shoulder, she straightened up and held his gaze. "For what it's worth, Chakotay, I'll share this with you. I know what I did. I always thought I had the best reasons in the universe for shying away from intimacies such as I knew you deserved. Suddenly now, it all seems so easy, as if they never should have existed, or that I should have allowed it to - to rule my life. I'm sorry I hurt you. I was the one who was a fool. A first class fool..."  
  
He smiled, looking a little relieved at her revelation. He knew how she felt. No words were needed. But the silent barrier would always remain. She held her hand to him. He grasped it in his. They could continue with the air a little cleared between them, even resume being friends again. When Chakotay spoke, the old teasing was back in his voice.  
  
"So are you going to tell me what your dress looks like?"  
  
"No."  
  
His eyes were warm as the rested on her. They relished the moment, knowing that when they exited the holosuite, they'd be Admiral Janeway and Professor Chakotay again with the renewed parameters of friendship. They walked to the doors and as the doors slid open, Chakotay looked at her.  
  
"I take it you've been to the exhibition?"  
  
"I have. You've done marvelous work on Ketarcha, Chakotay. The Federation is proud of you - "  
  
"I don't need their commendation. I love my work."  
  
"I was intrigued by the main exhibit," she said.  
  
"Did Rojan rustle up some myths and legends for you, Kathryn?" This time she stopped in her tracks and Chakotay stopped too. "What? He didn't?"  
  
"Rojan didn't, Chakotay. I got all my legends from you..."  
  
*********** 


	5. The Anniversary Waltz

PART FIVE  
  
Chakotay took one last look in the mirror, tugging somewhat impatiently at the white bowtie. The stiff collar scratched a little but he ignored the mild discomfort. Ironically, he had lost weight since he lived on Ketarcha Prime, so he replicated new tails to fit snugly on his lean frame. His hair was combed back, a lot sleeker than it had been before, and plastered to his scalp in a shiny gloss. Kathryn used to tease him mercilessly in the good old days on Voyager.  
  
"You know that hair gloss gives a very good effect, Chakotay."  
  
"Kathryn! Ladies used that in the twentieth century - "  
  
"You saw Luca Baricchi and Cristo Berninni and Ricardo Panetta and all the other male ballroom dancers. What do you think they used for that sleek black look?"  
  
"Boot polish?"  
  
"Don't be ridiculous. Why, do you think?"  
  
"They were all Italian?"  
  
Kathryn had given him an aggrieved stare so he complied. That first year. Everything had been such fun. They joked, teased one another without end, and by the time they finished their waltz, everyone had been in agreement that they should do it again the next year. Chakotay gave a sigh. He missed Kathryn, missed what they had. Closing his eyes, he tried not to picture her as she came into his quarters that last day on Voyager. There had been expectation on her face, a look so free from all restraint, as if she had finally thrown off her shackles that bound her to Voyager. It was more than just being home. She had wanted to tell him something important, something that was life-changing, he supposed. But Kathryn's breathless, flushed appearance froze, became distraught the instant her eyes took in the scene before her - a happy Seven of Nine who had just spent the first night with him in his quarters, firmly in his embrace, looking animated. Why not? Seven had just become his lover, had been tenderly introduced for the first time to sex and it had to be pretty obvious to Kathryn. Yes, Kathryn had a shattered look in her eyes for a second before it disappeared.  
  
He wondered about that look for three long years.  
  
He turned when someone entered the room. It was Annika, proud and worried at the same time. She wore a long black dress and looked stunning. It offset her Nordic looks, giving her a more aloof appearance. At home she had been calm, while he was like a coiled spring. He looked forward to the evening, and he dreaded it at the same time. He wanted to dance with Kathryn and make another beautiful memory with her, but deep inside him he knew that tonight he would be unable to resist Kathryn's beauty, her quiet grace that had all but deepened the last three years. Annika had sensed his restlessness and had made him sit down to watch the sun set over the Bay. A red sun that reminded him of Ketarcha Prime...of golden evenings on New Earth... Somehow, Annika's own calm touched him too and by the time they had to leave, his mood had changed and he had hugged her spontaneously. She had smiled at him, unaware of how her eyes had lit up at his show of affection. There had not been much of that lately.  
  
"Are you ready?" she asked him.  
  
"How do I look?" he countered her question.  
  
"As always, very distinguished."  
  
He placed his hands on her shoulders and pulled her closer. Kissing her cheek, he heard her give a little sigh.  
  
"What is it, Annika?"  
  
"I will be leaving for Utopia Planitia in the morning."  
  
"I know."  
  
"You must decide, Chakotay..." she said, her voice sounding defeated.  
  
His heart bled for her. He touched her hair, then cupped her cheek gently.  
  
"I'm glad you're with me, Annika. I told you - "  
  
"Yes, I know what you said. We agreed. But, Chakotay..."  
  
"I don't want to hurt you, Annika..."  
  
She gave him a tender smile, her eyes moist.  
  
"I know. It is the one thing I have loved about you the most. You have honour and fidelity. But - "  
  
"What, Annika?"  
  
"It is not easy, letting go...."  
  
"Look," he said quickly, taking her hand in his, "let's go inside. They're probably waiting for me. Wait for me at our table, will you?"  
  
Annika nodded, then left the room as silently as she had entered it. Chakotay gave a sigh, tugged at the lapels of his tail coat, took one last look in the mirror and followed Annika Hansen out the door. In a few minutes, the ceremony would begin and Kathryn would be waiting for him at the entrance to the hall.  
  
********  
  
When B'Elanna Paris who had done the honours every year of helping Kathryn with her dress, walked into the dressing room reserved for the admiral, she gave a soft gasp. Kathryn had already put on the dress and was securing the straps and straightening out the soft chiffon of the skirt.  
  
"Admiral!"  
  
Kathryn looked up at her former Chief Engineer and lifted the corner of her mouth.  
  
"You've never seen a ghost?"  
  
"Oh, no! That dress...it's - it's sinfully beautiful and - and ethereal..."  
  
"Therefore, ghost-like," Kathryn responded drily as she turned to the mirror again and began to fix a flower in her hair. B'Elanna was quick, taking the flower from her and then she gave another gasp. "What now, B'Elanna?"  
  
"This - is an orchid."  
  
"So it is. What about it?"  
  
"It's fresh, Admiral. You've never worn a fresh flower in you hair..." B'Elanna's voice trailed away. "And the dress..."  
  
"Raoul suggested the fresh flower."  
  
"The designer. The one who boasts he is the best in the universe?"  
  
"So he is."  
  
B'Elanna touched her hair, smoothed away a stray wisp. Kathryn thought every hair on her head was already just about glued into place and secured in a bun in the nape of her neck. B'Elanna's fingers were light as they touched up here and tucked in there. Then she stood away from Kathryn, hands on her hips. Didn't B'Elanna even realise how striking she herself looked in her red dress? She looked completely unaware of her own allure.  
  
"You're going to blow them away this time, Admiral."  
  
"It's the last year, B'Elanna," Kathryn said softly.  
  
It seemed B'Elanna didn't hear her.  
  
"And, you're going to blow him away..."  
  
"B'Elanna..."  
  
"He loves you, you know."  
  
B'Elanna's eyes flashed. She was fiercely proud of Chakotay and always viewed him like a kinder older brother and role model.  
  
"Shall we go?" Kathryn asked, ignoring B'Elanna's words but the half- Klingon woman stood her ground and Kathryn couldn't move past her.  
  
"He's unhappy, Admiral. Everyone in the hall... the entire crew...they have eyes to see. Year after year he danced for you. He never liked to dance, did you know? Tom challenged him, but then I guess you know that. Chakotay would fetch water from Ocampa for you..."  
  
"That's enough, B'Elanna. You've said enough - "  
  
"He's unhappy with her and you're doing nothing - "  
  
"What am I supposed to do?"  
  
"What you should have done years ago, Admiral. Tell him you love him..."  
  
I wanted to, didn't you know? I went to his cabin to tell him. I let go finally...  
  
"B'Elanna..." Kathryn struggled to find her centre. B'Elanna had just knocked her off it. It had been a struggle for one whole year to forget, and then the old realisation that forgetting was impossible and that she had to keep feeding on her memories. Every year the same drill. Forget, remember, die, live. When she could breathe evenly again, she continued, "Chakotay knows how I feel. But he is an honourable man and would never hurt her."  
  
"You hurt him..."  
  
"That's unfair, B'Elanna - "  
  
"Admiral! I'm - I'm sorry... I was out of line."  
  
"You certainly were. Now, we should be on the floor in the next few minutes. How do I look?"  
  
"Like a dream..." B'Elanna gave her a brilliant smile but Kathryn noticed the sheen of angry tears in her eyes.  
  
*******************  
  
They met at the entrance to the hall and Kathryn sucked in her breath. Chakotay looked very attractive in his white tie and tails and his impressive height enhanced the picture of dignity and elegance of his dress. It was something that happened every year when she saw him in his attire. Her heart would lurch wildly for a second before she could effect some control. She enjoyed the precious moments that she could look at him and not feel the shame to love him and show it in her eyes. The moment he turned, she recovered and smiled at him. When he saw her he froze for a few moments. She knew she looked good, knew that Raoul had once again done a brilliant job with her ice-white creation. She inclined her head, felt the indescribable sadness descend on her again as Chakotay walked slowly towards her and took her hand.  
  
"You're beautiful..." he whispered as they stepped onto the floor. Tumultuous applause broke loose. Kathryn hardly saw anyone and was only aware of Chakotay. He cast her a sideways glance, his heart in his eyes. "Only angels could look like you look tonight..."  
  
She thought how Raoul said he'd say those very words.  
  
"Thank you," she replied as she curtsied.  
  
Then the soft, haunting strains of "The Prayer" filled the hall and Chakotay moved into position, his hands outstretched. Kathryn floated into his arms. The connection was instant and spontaneous. They moved slowly, gracefully along the length of the floor. Kathryn vaguely heard gasps and applause. When they moved into a picture step, her eyes were on Chakotay who smiled down at her, holding her tenderly, finding expression in every bar of music, every nuance that they swayed to. Somewhere a refrain throbbed endlessly.  
  
I belong here, in his arms...  
  
"They love us, Kathryn," he whispered as he brought her against him and they started a three sequence pirouette.  
  
"I noticed," she whispered in response, not missing a beat or a step as they continued around the floor. The music was moving, beautiful, with the youthful voice of the singer clear, well-defined and controlled, the timbre guiding them in the traditional 1-2-3 step in sweet synchronisation so that they moved effortlessly across the floor, hardly aware of voices or gasps or soft whispers or applause. They were one with the music, a prayer for every child, every woman, every man seeking safe havens wherever they happened to wander or search for inner peace. The music mirrored their souls, aching and haunting and yet, noted with the old, old message that rest can only be attained if the heart listened.  
  
So Chakotay and Kathryn danced the anniversary waltz, themselves the living example that captive and captor, Maquis and Starfleet, Warrior and Goddess can join and resolve to seek lasting peace. Many had followed their example, proving that in friendship, in peace, in everlasting love, there could exist no boundaries.  
  
Do you think it's a good idea to celebrate the joining of Maquis and Starfleet crew into a Voyager crew, Commander?  
  
Why not? Seems the crew already decided for us, Captain.  
  
But do you think it's a good idea?  
  
It would be unique, Captain. We share our sorrow and our joy as one body on this vessel. It's brilliant...  
  
I hear we'll have to dance, Commander.  
  
Oh, no...  
  
Kathryn remembered past years when they danced and she felt at home in Chakotay's arms. The same arms that held her now as if he would not let her go, or falter. He was perfect. She remembered how afterwards they would laze in her quarters or his cabin and talk the night away. She remembered one year when afterwards, he kissed her spontaneously and the whole evening had been magical. That was the year before they were home. Their last on Voyager. Chakotay's kiss then, his own surprise that he surprised her, and then the expectant look in his eyes - a look that died when she dismissed the kiss and their connection as "something dancers did when they finished their waltz. She remembered that.  
  
Shall we do this again, Kathryn?  
  
It was good, wasn't it?  
  
We were good, Captain.  
  
Then of course, same time next year...  
  
Kathryn closed her eyes and lost herself in the magic of the dance...  
  
********************  
  
Chakotay tried to breathe as naturally as he could. In his arms floated with him the object of his affection and his love. He inhaled her, took in the hint of scent from the orchid in her hair and lost himself in her nearness. Every year they danced he was reminded how much they belonged together and how much he lost. A sudden flash of Seven's distraught face when she saw them kiss after the ceremony the previous year, was ruthlessly obliterated by the smell of Kathryn, her closeness, the perfect, perfect way in which she fitted into his arms and against his body. She was light, always had been. Light as a feather and light on her feet, Kathryn was every great ballroom dancer's dream partner.  
  
He could no more imagine his life without her. He had given up the second he saw her standing a few metres away from him in her ice-white dress and the white orchid in her hair. He had never, in all the years he had known Kathryn Janeway seen her look so beautiful. Queenly - a goddess in white - and aloof and warm and near all at once. She had that effect on him, always...always... The dress looked more like an apparition from heaven than something Raoul had created for her. Raoul had done the work and Chakotay wondered idly if the designer could ever imagine that Kathryn could look like a goddess. He must have, because it was a goddess that moved in his arms. Kathryn of Virtue...Goddess of Virtue... What did it matter that she made him wait? What did her unfounded fears matter now? What did it matter that she teased him until he couldn't bear it any longer? What did it matter that she was the Captain of Voyager and he a lonely renegade searching all his life for someone to complete it?  
  
What did it matter that she hurt him to the point of insanity?  
  
His dream was in his arms, with him, in his heart for all time. How could he let her go? His heart overflowed with love he could no longer contain. For a split second only, his step faltered but Kathryn compensated instantly and they danced on. She looked up at him, her heart in her eyes and when she smiled, he felt something break finally inside him.  
  
"I love you, Kathryn..."  
  
This time her step faltered; he compensated and the correction was hardly noticed. His words were a pained whisper that sprang from deep inside him. In the room, no one else existed but he and Kathryn, like it was for nine years and like it had to be forever. He held his breath as she rallied.  
  
"I love you too, Chakotay..." the whisper came from her.  
  
"Always?"  
  
"Always..."  
  
*****************  
  
Slowly, gracefully, the former Captain and former First Officer of Voyager moved into the final picture step while the guests rose to their feet.  
  
In the foyer a young woman stood with an imager in her hands.  
  
"Mariah, what is it?" James Hamilton, her husband, asked. He had followed when she gave a little cry of pain and rushed out of the hall. She looked at him with tear stained eyes.  
  
"It's wrong...wrong, James. It's not fair..."  
  
"They both made choices," he said sagely and Mariah wanted to throttle her husband for being so right.  
  
"I know. But he loves her and she...she's in love with him..."  
  
"And has been for years. Everyone knows that, sweetheart."  
  
But Mariah seemed inconsolable as she allowed her tears to fall.  
  
"It's not fair," she said again. "I've taken a picture of them every year and this one... Look..."  
  
Her hands trembled as she held the imager to him. James Hamilton looked at the playback of the photo Mariah selected and stared intensely at it. He sucked in his breath and let it out slowly.  
  
"Oh, my God..." he said. "This is the best so far..."  
  
"See? They're perfect."  
  
Mariah had caught them in a picture step, with Kathryn looking up at Chakotay and Chakotay looking at her, his eyes filled with love. It seemed she had just said something to him and the look on his face was as if heaven's portals had opened. It was a photograph, Mariah's favourite medium, and it looked to him as if the two figures moved. If he closed his eyes, that's what happened. Was the photograph alive? How had Mariah done it? He didn't look for answers. Mariah was near genius handling an imager and this time, she didn't take a snapshot. Her eye captured a moment of sheer beauty and life. He looked at his wife of three years, mother of their little son. He loved her, loved her for a long time and almost, he lost her because he thought she'd never give him the time of day. He was Starfleet, she was Maquis, and together, when they could face their fears head-on, they created magic. It wasn't easy, but he was a happy man. Maquis and Starfleet... So many followed the command team's example because they witnessed the rarest of perfect love between the two. Maquis and Starfleet...  
  
"I understand. I understand perfectly...."  
  
******************  
  
The music ended and Kathryn curtsied deeply, while Chakotay took a bow. The applause was even wilder than when they stepped on to the floor. Kathryn couldn't see her crew for the sheen in her eyes. She wanted to go home and cry her heart out. She wanted to go to Mars and crawl under a rock there and never come out. She wanted to go back to New Earth and sit on their favourite rock and dream dark dreams.  
  
Tonight, she made yet another memory with him, and this time it had to feed her the rest of her life.  
  
Chakotay loved her. She loved him.  
  
But what now?  
  
What was an honourable man to do?  
  
He had to do the honourable thing.  
  
"Come with me, please, Kathryn," Chakotay whispered urgently to her. "Just come with me to the foyer. I won't keep you long..."  
  
Chakotay's voice was pleading. Kathryn hesitated a moment, glanced at Chakotay's table where Seven of Nine was sitting, looking regal and impassive. It didn't fool Kathryn. Seven of Nine had for a moment, when their eyes met, looked like she had the previous year, when she caught Kathryn kissing Chakotay. Kathryn nodded and quickly followed him to the foyer. It was empty and she breathed a sigh of relief that there was no one to see them, or hear their conversation.  
  
"What is it, Chakotay?" she asked.  
  
"I want to repeat what I said while we danced. I can't help it anymore. I love you. I've never stopped. I'm sorry, about everything."  
  
Kathryn sighed.  
  
"No more than I am... I love you, Chakotay," she said, her voice hollow. "But, we each have our duty, you understand?"  
  
Without waiting for him to respond, she turned and went into the hall, to join her companion at their table.  
  
***********  
  
Despite the air of unease that hung over the crowd in the seconds after Kathryn and Chakotay finished their dance and everyone's eyes going to Seven of Nine sitting alone and looking impassive, the evening proceeded with the same joyous abandon it had during the previous years. Tom was his hilarious self, even after B'Elanna had complained to him about her conversation with Admiral Janeway and how angry she was that the Admiral was once again going to let another opportunity slip through her fingers.  
  
"B'Elanna, the most honourable individuals in the room right now are Chakotay and Admiral Janeway. The man's married, have you forgotten? I'm pretty certain that if the admiral doesn't make an announcement now, it will be made later. There won't be another anniversary, B'Elanna. Not after what we've seen on the floor tonight.  
  
"Yeah, like we've seen every year..." she responded.  
  
"But tonight, B'Elanna, there was magic in the air. It's never been like that before. They're in love, way in over their heads over heels in love. But Chakotay will never want to hurt Annika Hansen, nor would Admiral Janeway want to be instrumental in breaking them up."  
  
"Look at them, Tom! Their masks are back in place, just like it had been on Voyager..."  
  
"Honey, that's the way we know them. Something's gotta give, and very soon. Until that happens, can't we put our unhappiness aside and celebrate our Maquis-Starfleet union?"  
  
B'Elanna Torres had given Tom a hard stare, then backed down when he challenged her gaze.  
  
"Fine," she smiled, "but I don't waltz, Tom."  
  
"Eh?"  
  
"You're going to take me on the floor and we'll do a tango. I'm wearing red!"  
  
"You're on!"  
  
********  
  
At Kathryn's table Andrew Ellerman leaned over and placed his hand over hers.  
  
"Smile, Kathryn," he ordered, and was gratified when Kathryn graced him with a brilliant smile. "Now, I don't presume to lip-read, but I know what you said to him on the floor. I know what he said. I also you know are an honourable person. I've known you long enough, okay?"  
  
She gave him a smile.  
  
"Yes, and?"  
  
"And now you have to continue the rest of the evening in my company. We'll drink to your good health, your future and Raoul who made the most incredible piece of angel's dress I've ever seen, and live on the dreams of yesterday."  
  
"Yesterday, huh."  
  
"Right. Then you'll wait here like the queen you are and everyone will come to our important table and greet Admiral Janeway and wish her well for the future and to future projects. Smile, Kathryn. The world is watching you. Keep the tears hidden like I know you can..."  
  
"Oh, Andrew... What would I do without my friend?"  
  
"Don't even think about it. Look, here's your first guest coming to our table... Smile Kathryn... Smile..."  
  
Kathryn took a deep breath, buried her heartache and smiled when Chell and his wife approached the table.  
  
******************  
  
"It was a pleasant evening, Chakotay," Annika said when they entered their apartment.  
  
Chakotay thought she had taken it well, all the adulation he and Kathryn received. For almost an hour they were the centre of attention after they danced, the former crew of Voyager taking turns in greeting their command team at their respective tables. He wanted to hug all of them. They never said anything but praise and accepted Annika as part of his life even though he knew that they would rather have seen a different outcome when they returned home.  
  
"Yes, I enjoyed it. Thank you for doing this for me, Annika."  
  
She turned to face him. Her eyes were pools of sadness, but a smiled tugged at the corner of her mouth.  
  
"Tonight... I could see why. I - I am glad I could help. It would not have looked good if I stayed away."  
  
"I...guess not."  
  
"Chakotay..."  
  
Annika's eyelids fluttered. Chakotay thought how much she had developed emotionally especially in the last three years. There was so little of the Borg about her that he almost missed it. She looked away then met his gaze again.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"It's over..."  
  
"Annika, please, I told you I'll not leave you. Believe that - "  
  
"I believe what my eyes saw tonight, Chakotay," she cut in, her voice without rancour. "I wish...I could have had that with you, but - " Chakotay held up his hand to speak, to deny her words, but her own hand gone up to stop him. "Let me speak. I'll not have this opportunity again..." There was a heavy pause. They were standing in their lounge and Annika had looked several times to their bedroom door. Chakotay sighed. She lay in his arms at night, made love to him, then quietly lay on her side when they finished. He didn't want the guilt... "When you married me, I thought my life would be...complete. I found relevance in things I always thought to be unimportant adjuncts to my life. It was good that first year, Chakotay. I'm glad I've had that with you. But we never had a connection, not the kind that radiated from you and Admiral Janeway tonight...."  
  
"Annika..."  
  
"There is a power beyond what I can define that joined your...soul with Admiral Janeway a - a long time ago, Chakotay. You chose me... It was a privilege. I was happy. You weren't happy, Chakotay, and I desire your own happiness above all else. You can have that..."  
  
He was silenced by her candour, rendered mute.  
  
"Annika..." he managed, "I made a vow..." "And I asked that you make a decision, Chakotay. I'm leaving in the morning for Utopia Planitia. I'll not return on the weekends like I've done in the past. I also told you I will adapt, whatever you decide. Please, let me have this little bit of dignity..."  
  
He didn't know what to say. He never wanted to hurt her. All he could do was take her in his arms and hold her for long moments. He didn't love her, not anymore, and perhaps he never did. How could he when Kathryn was in every breath he took? He had a great affection for Annika and that had to be enough. He didn't want to leave her, but she was adamant and he had to concede that things had to come to a head and very soon. He kissed her, then held her away from him. Why did he feel like crying and shouting for joy at the same time? Why did he feel the tears well in his eyes? When he spoke, he was filled with deep emotion.  
  
"Give me time, will you? To decide."  
  
**************** 


	6. The Anniversary Waltz

PART SIX  
  
Somehow, Andrew's injunction that she enjoy herself and smile her way through her sorrow worked. She picked herself up and went about her duties like she promised Chakotay. It had been cathartic when she finally told him of her true feelings even under the most difficult circumstances. He was tied to another, a choice he made when he could no longer wait for her to make up her mind. She had to deal with that reality for three years, but telling him that she loved him was like a boulder had just rolled off her shoulder. The relief was great. Still, she was realistic and didn't expect the status quo to change just because she revealed herself in such a dramatic manner during the waltz. She felt he deserved to know and even though neither she nor Chakotay could do anything about it, she felt good for once.  
  
She had told him that she wished to make another memory with him and that was enough. Whether it was enough to sustain her for the rest of her life, depended on how she allowed it to dominate her life. She'd been melancholy on her birthdays, unable to sleep well for weeks after the anniversaries, and those occasions they met socially were occasions she kept to a minimum. They were colleagues for at least a period of the year and she jealously guarded the aftermath of odd meetings and pleasant exhanges with him. She held her head high like always and went about her business as if the man who lectured first year cadets just two rooms away from hers was never there.  
  
Now that she shared her feelings with him she felt lighter than she had in years, though the melancholy persisted. She couldn't shake it off and once she actually thought she was coming down with a bad cold, or something. She was restless, and this time it was not thoughts of Chakotay and Seven of Nine together that kept her in a state of unease whenever they were back on Earth. She had overcome the terrible resentment and sense of loss and jealousy whenever she thought of them together, or in one another's arms, kissing, making love. That didn't cause her restlessness.  
  
It was something deeper, more spiritual she supposed, that kept her up all night after the anniversary celebration. Chakotay and Seven need never fear that she would come between them, and she sensed that that was mostly what Seven's apprehension was. Although the former Borg appeared icy cool, she was as insecure and vulnerable as the next woman who tried to hold on to her mate.  
  
Kathryn could hardly wait to close up her office and make her way to the Ketarchan Exhibition Suite. She admitted that the Primos Urn drew her irresistibly to it and now, with Chakotay at last knowing about how she felt about him, she needed to get away, to look at the urn again and find the strange peace suffuse her like it did the first time. Her heart raced as she thought of it and how she would place her palms close to the urn and attempt to touch it. She was intrigued by the Goddess of Virtue, by the Dance of Peace with the warrior and the parallels to her own life with Chakotay didn't go unnoticed. So she hurried across the lawns to the Academy and when Rojan saw her, he gave her a broad smile as if he knew she'd be back.  
  
"Admiral, I knew you'd come..."  
  
So much for second-guessing, she thought wryly as she greeted him.  
  
"You know the urn and I have something in common, Rojan."  
  
"Yes, the Goddess of Virtue. I was told there was a Goddess dancing last night at the anniversary celebration."  
  
Word always spread fast. Faster than on small ships the size of Voyager it seemed like to her.  
  
"Is that true?" she asked.  
  
"Oh, yes, Admiral! You wore a - a dream of a dress. Yes, the Goddess is beckoning you." Rojan waved his hand with a flourish towards the dark room where the Primos Urn stood. "I've made sure there'll be no one here for at least an hour, Admiral..."  
  
"Thank you, Rojan."  
  
Once inside, Kathryn's eyes adjusted to the dark quickly as she stepped to the centre of the room. The Primos Urn glowed and when Kathryn stood close to it, a strange warmth filled her. It was not heat that emanated from the artefact, but she was bathed in a sense of well-being, of being cosseted, of a familiarity that no longer surprised her. It knew her, and as if in greeting or deference, the urn started to glow deeper again as her palm inexorably came up close to it. A second only, and she remembered that she couldn't touch it. She stood still as she looked at the figures caught in movement as old as time, an eternal dance in which the Goddess and the warrior were unified, just like she and Chakotay had been the previous night.  
  
"I wonder what happened when you danced with him..." she murmured softly. "Did you too find the pull to the warrior irresistible? You must have. Your eyes are on him all the time, never breaking contact..."  
  
Kathryn paused, imagining a scene in a forest glade. What was it again that she remembered from the legend? Did they hear her? As if in reply to her musing, the urn gleamed more intensely and then her body filled with waves of heat, not overpowering, but enough to acknowledge that the urn was moving again, a minute vibration that made her fingers also tremble lightly. She closed her eyes a moment and when she opened them, found herself in a strange place.  
  
A beautiful woman with hair flowing behind her as the breeze caught it, and wearing a long white garment that lapped gently against her ankles stood before the warrior. He wore a head dress, like a helmet and he carried what looked like a broadsword.  
  
Where am I? Kathryn wondered for a moment before she realised that the area around her had changed into a clearing surrounded by beautiful forest ferns. The Goddess spoke, her words drifting about them on the breeze and echoing through the universe.  
  
We are of the same world, Amahl. Do not continue your fight against your brothers.  
  
Who then shall understand the Anarchs? We are fighters. You must understand that more than anyone, O virtuous Goddess. You spring from the same race of warriors, for were you not born to a warrior king?  
  
Then is it not good for our people, since we are brothers and sisters, to end our hostilities?  
  
We have drifted apart. It cannot be helped. To be accepted we must fight.  
  
Does not fighting cause division? Are we not stronger if we are united? My task is to unite, Amahl. Ketara and Anarch are of the same race. We must preserve peace in order to survive. Too many have died by their brothers' hands. Only you have the power to stop the carnage of our world, Amahl.  
  
Upon my word alone? Are you not our goddess, too?  
  
That is so, Amahl. It is in my power to destroy you, to bring you to justice...  
  
What then of my people?  
  
Are we not of the same race, Amahl?  
  
Will you destroy me?  
  
It is a power I will not use. How can I if I am to unite us all?  
  
My destiny...it is in your hands...  
  
Then is not my destiny in your hands too?  
  
How can that be so, Goddess of Virtue?  
  
Because, Amahl, you have been chosen. My peace is your peace and your peace is mine. We are one...  
  
Then let me be by your side always...  
  
Let me kneel before you then, Amahl, to show that I am earnest.  
  
Rise, O, Goddess. Kneel not before the worshipper. Rather, let us join in dance...  
  
Always, Amahl...  
  
Then the images vanished as suddenly as they had inveigled themselves in her consciousness. Kathryn blinked hard, disoriented for several seconds until the room came into focus again. The bright light of her forest clearing was gone and in its place was the present - a soft glow radiating from the urn, and the figures on it again stilled in time. She felt mildly bereft. The images, voices and figures moving, the warrior whose name was Amahl which sounded to her too much like Amal Kotay, the name of Chakotay on the planet Quarra, were all gone, but remained as echoes still in her.  
  
She realised with some surprise and wonder that she stood with both palms up and almost against the urn's forcefield.  
  
"Admiral! Is something the matter?" Rojan's voice intruded on her musing. She looked at him with glazed eyes, still in her dream state.  
  
"Yes... No, it's alright, Rojan. I'll go now. Don't worry..."  
  
Without looking back at the urn or Rojan, Kathryn left the room quietly, deeply pensive about what had happened.  
  
*****************  
  
"It has been a week, Professor, and Admiral Janeway visits the Primos Urn every day."  
  
Chakotay looked at Rojan's worried face.  
  
"Every day?" He hadn't realised that the urn would have such an impact on Kathryn.  
  
"Yes. She doesn't talk, just stands there and perhaps, Professor, there is silent communication?"  
  
"And you want me to investigate the matter."  
  
"Every day when she leaves, Professor, she looks sadder than the previous day and more weary. Her steps become slower and yesterday, she hardly moved. I had to take her hand..."  
  
Chakotay hesitated, cursed inwardly when Rojan made a sound of impatience.  
  
"I cannot intrude on her private time, Rojan."  
  
"You must do something. Before long there'll be nothing left of her."  
  
Rojan stood on the opposite side of the desk and when Chakotay rose to his feet, the young man retreated a step.  
  
"Aren't you exaggerating a bit? I told you Admiral Janeway probably doesn't wish to be disturbed. I can't just rush in there and tell her not to visit again." Chakotay thought Rojan wanted to cry the way his face creased. He gave a deep sigh, then sat down in his chair again.  
  
"Please, Professor, will you go and see what you can do? I shall be much relieved if I can see her smile again like she did the first day she came to the Suite."  
  
Chakotay rubbed his chin idly. He was curious; he was very concerned as well, but he didn't want Rojan to see he was ready to leap to Kathryn's aid. He didn't want the Ketarchan to think things.  
  
"Fine, I'll go - "  
  
"She comes every day at 1700 hours. It's almost that time. I must go."  
  
Chakotay nodded and Rojan gave a relieved smile before leaving the office. The poor man was harried, run off his feet because now, even the local schools brought their classes to the exhibition, and a delegation from Eprox Prime also visited in the last week.  
  
He was finished with his classes for the day and hadn't wanted to go home to an empty apartment. Annika had left the morning after the anniversary celebration and had given him a brief though passionate embrace before she left. She hadn't contacted him since she left a week ago. He wasn't sure whether he should feel relieved or guilty. All she asked that last night was that she lie in his arms. They had not been intimate and holding her had given him some sort of closure too. Annika wanted to feel part of him and wanted to commit him to her memory. Although she hadn't said a word, it was what he wanted to do for her. A few times she had shed a tear. He knew that by the way her body shook from the occasional sob.  
  
In the morning, she had been as impassive as she had been on Voyager and almost succeeded in fooling him into believing that three years of living with him either never happened, or it was irrelevant. He hadn't wanted to rush into Kathryn's arms then, still reeling a little from her revelation and her need of him.  
  
They both needed time, even as Kathryn held no hope for a future with him. That much was clear in her last words she spoke with him. She wanted him to know how she felt about him, and that was all. No demands and no conditions.  
  
Now, with Rojan's concerns, rose his own. Kathryn was visiting the urn every day and every day she became more tired. Something was wrong. He had promised Rojan to look into the matter, but the promise wasn't necessary , he thought as he got up and made his way to the Exhibition. It was almost 1700 hours, the time most visitors would be gone. His own fear and concern and rising exhilaration that he would see Kathryn and get to speak with her and perhaps, find out what ailed her, spoke louder than the promise he made Rojan to go and investigate what he sensed now, was the power of the urn.  
  
So Chakotay rushed towards the Suite, his heart pumping wildly. He gave cursory nods to those he passed, not caring that he might looked a little flustered.  
  
Rojan was standing just outside the Primos Room when he arrived.  
  
"She's there," Rojan whispered softly, his eyes wide. What was happening? Rojan looked like he was expecting the Goddess of Virtue to start dancing. Chakotay took in a deep breath and nodded, beckoning to the Ketarchan to remain at the entrance to the room.  
  
It was dark when Chakotay entered, as dark as it had been the very first day he had fallen down the shaft and found the room. Kathryn stood next to the exhibit which was still emanating a soft glow. Chakotay remembered that the natural gleam from the urn gave enough low light that he could move about in the dark. Kathryn seemed oblivious of him at first. When he stepped closer, she gave him a sideways glance, smiled briefly, then continued to fix her gaze on the urn.  
  
She looked tired, he thought absently. Her eyes were a little sunken, but it was more than that. He had never seen her this way. Tired, yet completely focused on the object in front of her. She never spoke, merely indicated with a nod of the head that he come closer.  
  
He was afraid to speak, afraid to break the spell he knew instinctively was about them. Else how could the urn's glow grow and diminish, then swell out again as if it listened to Kathryn and actually breathed?  
  
"Do you see them move?" she asked softly. He noticed that she held her palms almost against the forcefield.  
  
"Only when two of the same heart look at it." He didn't want to tell her it was only a legend, a myth of ages past. She seemed intent on believing the figures moved.  
  
"Hold your palms up, Chakotay. Like mine..."  
  
It never occurred to him to ignore her order, so he too, stood with his palms up, as if they were both ready to grab hold of the urn. The urn was protected, with a twin forcefield against it that no one knew was there, even with the most sophisticated technology to trace it. It was activated, that he could see from the small monitor that stood just inside the room.  
  
He looked at the figures. He had seen them often enough in the days after he discovered the artefact. They were still figures, a couple depicted in different poses or events, painted on them by the Potter of Primos, the most gifted of them all.  
  
Chakotay remembered his days on Voyager with Kathryn, odd moments of togetherness, their old camaraderie. He looked at the two primary figures caught in movement, stilled forever in time, yet he felt that they too, must have experienced that togetherness he and Kathryn always had. The warrior wore headgear that resembled a helmet and in his hand was a broadsword. In one picture he knelt before the goddess and held his sword to the her. Chakotay wondered whether the warrior was relinquishing his powers, or something.  
  
"His name is Amahl, Chakotay. He is pledging his allegiance to her..."  
  
He didn't look at Kathryn as she spoke, just naturally accepted her explanation, not asking how she knew the warrior's name. Then a strange thing happened. He cast Kathryn a quick glance and she met his gaze. If the urn weren't there, their fingers could have touched. In fact, it did feel for him that their fingers touched. But, it was impossible. It couldn't be...  
  
"Kathryn?"  
  
"I can see you, Amahl..."  
  
"I am Chakotay."  
  
"I know."  
  
Why did it look as if Amahl the warrior rose to his feet and removed his helmet? He bowed before the Goddess, then rose to take her hand. Chakotay's throat constricted. Did he transport to a clearing surrounded by forest ferns? He knew it was not a vision quest, yet just training his thoughts on that figures brought him to their time, their place... The Goddess and the warrior were moving together in primal dance - a dance of the ages.  
  
Take my hand, Amahl...  
  
I am not worthy, O Goddess of Virtue...  
  
Your peace is my peace. Your happiness is my happiness.  
  
Then Amahl and the fair Goddess with her long hair and ice-white flowing robe moved together, joined in ancient unification of their world. All around the urn they moved, alive, animated, apart, yet united. He felt a tremendous peace overcome him and his body became warm with well-being. He saw Kathryn's eyes on him.  
  
"They're dancing, Chakotay..."  
  
"When two of the same heart look at them, they will dance the dance of peace and unification."  
  
"Yes..."  
  
"My heart and your heart, Kathryn..."  
  
"No one else alive in this universe... Only your heart and mine."  
  
"I did not believe it, Kathryn. Forgive me."  
  
"I never asked you to believe me, Chakotay. Only to join me in faith."  
  
"I thought you were afraid...always afraid."  
  
He felt the urn vibrate against his fingers and thought for a moment he had touched the forcefield. But it couldn't be. There would have been the familiar blue flash had he touched it. He looked at Kathryn and she shook her head gently. He knew that they would both shock if they touched it and even if the forcefield were breached, the touch on the urn itself would render them both unconscious for more than five hours.  
  
What was happening?  
  
Kathryn's palm and fingers pressed forward.  
  
"Kathryn...no!" he whispered urgently.  
  
"Come with me, Chakotay, and join me in the dance of life..."  
  
How could he not? She was the Goddess, she was Kathryn; she was his queen, his soul mate. In all his dreams, all his wishes, all his desires and love of beauteous things, his boundless need to express himself, he found a mirror in Kathryn's heart.  
  
So he watched as she pressed her hand right through the forcefield. He followed her, joined her in faith as she commanded. He knew that Rojan could not have deactivated the codes.  
  
"Kathryn...my love..."  
  
His eyes widened as Kathryn's hands came closer and closer to the black and golden surface of the urn. He wanted to warn her. But already, they had both passed the forcefield.  
  
"Just a touch, Chakotay. Feel its strength...feel it..."  
  
"Kathryn..." His voice was a low, soft cry of capitulation when at last he gave himself over to the power of the Goddess of Virtue.  
  
Their hands touched the urn simultaneously.  
  
The room was suddenly bathed in golden light. Light and shadows that played and mingled, then became gradually brighter, throwing shafts against the walls and in the shafts of light they saw themselves, Kathryn and Chakotay, on the night they danced the anniversary waltz. Kathryn dressed in her ice- white creation that made her look like she was gliding on clouds; he, dressed in his white tie and black tails. They danced gracefully, and then several more shafts sprang from the urn which was turning on its little platform. Chakotay saw something else. On the wall, in a play of silhouettes and golden light, the Goddess of Virtue and her warrior Amahl joined Kathryn and Chakotay in their dance. The Goddess, dressed in flowing white ice-white garment and Amahl, dressed in the garb of the warrior. Chakotay's fingers touched Kathryn's and no more did he question or seek desperate answers to the truth, or needed to be convinced of the way of the truth.  
  
The truth was before him. It had been there all the time.  
  
There was no fear, for fear had died. He was filled with the timeless knowledge, come lately on the wings of light and love, that he belonged with Kathryn Janeway forever. They were two and they were one, just as the Goddess and Amahl - two of the same heart joining to find peace.  
  
Trouble not yourself with guilt, for she knows your truth.  
  
Chakotay's eyes closed. Annika has always known...  
  
"Trouble not yourself, Chakotay... We are one..."  
  
"I know now, Kathryn. I understand."  
  
"I will wait for you, for there is much to be done..."  
  
"Yes, my love..."  
  
Then the spell - a mesh of the finest thread in which the Goddess of Virtue, Amahl, Kathryn and Chakotay were caught, was broken by the cry that sprang from another source in the room. Kathryn and Chakotay, released from the spell, both turned slowly in the direction of the intrusion and saw Rojan standing there, wide-eyed, in tears.  
  
"It has happened. The Oracle of the Ages has come true. Only one of pure heart could light the urn and make the Goddess come to life."  
  
Chakotay took Kathryn's hand, and both walked to the stunned young man who remained rooted to the spot, just inside the door of the room that was now bathed in the incredible, fantastic light in which four individuals danced for peace. Kathryn looked up at her warrior, smiled at him and gave his hand a little squeeze.  
  
"What has happened, Rojan?" Chakotay asked the dazed Rojan.  
  
"The High Priest of Ketarcha, Keeper of the Oracle of the Ages will be happy, Admiral...Professor. They have searched for many, many years for the one to find the Primos Urn, and for the one to make the Goddess come to life again. You are blessed, the Chosen to fulfill the Oracle of the Ages..."  
  
"Why am I hearing this only now?" Chakotay asked, still holding Kathryn's hand in his, unwilling to break contact with her. Rojan stared at the dancing images on the walls, then met their gaze.  
  
"We knew your destiny was on Earth, Professor, but you had to face the truth yourself..."  
  
Chakotay turned to Kathryn and pulled her closer to him.  
  
"Or else I was going to take the exhibition to every planet in the Federation to find the one who could make the urn come to life," he said reflectively, amazed at what Rojan was telling him. Everyone knew. The Ketarcha Council, even Annika. He had wanted to deny it for years. He hadn't wanted to face the truth, for he was bound by honour to another. Yet, all he had to do was do the right thing. Chakotay closed his eyes for a moment, felt the burn of tears behind his eyelids. Kathryn's image, the day she came to his quarters, the distraught look in her eyes that was gone in an instant...  
  
To do the right thing...  
  
"Professor, I have to lock up now, and from tomorrow every visitor who comes will now see the Primos urn as it must have looked in the year the great, gifted Potter of Primos made it. Accept its truth.  
  
"I feel honoured, Rojan," Kathryn said, "but now, I need to rest, you understand?"  
  
"Anything, Admiral," Rojan said with a flourish as they exited the room.  
  
"Take good care of them, Rojan," Chakotay said. Rojan turned his head in the direction of the dark room where the four figures danced and then he gave Chakotay a brilliant smile.  
  
"Aye, Professor!"  
  
********  
  
Outside the building it was already growing dark and Chakotay pulled Kathryn to him. He looked deeply into her eyes and was gratified when she rested her head against his chest. His hand came up to stroke her hair and he gave a little cry.  
  
"Forgive me, Kathryn. That day when you came to my quarters... I know now what you wanted to tell me..."  
  
"It took me long to come to that decision and it made me free. I was dying to share my feelings with you. All that I felt for seven years and had been afraid to..."  
  
"And then you saw me with Seven..."  
  
"I could never begrudge what you had."  
  
"I know," he said softly. He caressed her cheek, watched how her eyes closed at the contact. "You look exhausted."  
  
She gave a contented sigh. He bent his head to kiss her, a tender touch of his lips against hers.  
  
"I'll be on a diplomatic mission in deep space for about six weeks, Chakotay, then after that I'll be in Indiana. I'll wait..."  
  
"Kathryn..."  
  
"It's my turn, Chakotay," she said gently.  
  
Her generosity humbled him. She rose on tiptoe and kissed him in a brief touch, and seconds later, Kathryn left. Chakotay stared in the direction she walked long after he couldn't see her familiar figure anymore. He shook his head. It was too much, everything he and Kathryn experienced in the last hour or so. The fantastic legend he had heard about but was sceptical most of the time about its truth. He had humoured the young students and volunteers of Ketarcha for their child-like faith in the myth that surrounded the events of eight thousand years ago. If he hadn't found the urn, what direction would his life have taken, if not with Kathryn? Was it his destiny that he of all people on Ketarcha had to find it? He had never stopped loving Kathryn since the day he met her. Was it her destiny that she should be the instrument, the very goddess to make the urn come to life, and therefore let everyone experience what happened that fateful day when the Goddess of Virtue danced with the warrior Amahl?  
  
His destiny was woven inextricably with Kathryn's. That was a fact, a blinding, thrilling new realisation that made him suddenly free. The huge weight of duty to Annika, to remain faithful to her and honour his commitment to her, suddenly now, in the face of the miracle that happened and which started the night they danced the anniversary waltz, made it imperative that he set into motion the things that needed to be done.  
  
Chakotay was roused briefly from his musing when he heard footsteps.  
  
"I'm going now, Professor. Good night," Rojan said as the young man came outside and showed his surprise to see Chakotay still standing there.  
  
"Rojan..."  
  
"Yes, Professor?"  
  
"I have some things to do. You will be fine here for a few weeks..."  
  
"Where will you go?"  
  
"I cannot tell you, but be assured that when I return, Ketarcha Prime will relive the legend of the Goddess again.  
  
"Then that is good. My people wait. They have been patient eight thousand years. Another few months will be no sacrifice."  
  
"Goodnight."  
  
Rojan nodded briefly then he too, disappeared in the direction Kathryn Janeway had gone. Chakotay gave a sigh. He felt good at last. He loved Kathryn and gloried in the fact that he could now allow himself to express that luxury. It was no more a luxury, he realised with wonder. It was a need, a burning desire to tell it to the world. Kathryn loved him and that was an even greater miracle.  
  
He had to go home, just as Rojan had gone to his apartment and Kathryn had gone home to hers. He needed to think, to mull again over everything that happened.  
  
Then he had to go to Utopia Planitia to tell Annika Hansen what he had to tell her.  
  
He had to go to Indiana to tell Kathryn Janeway what he had to tell her.  
  
****************  
  
END  
  
EPILOGUE  
  
It was winter when Chakotay arrived at Indiana. Snow lay thick outside and glimmered in the watery sun. Kathryn had been sitting in the lounge, warmed by the fire in the hearth, reading Dante's "La Vita Nuova" when she happened to look through the window. She hadn't been specifically focused on anything, not expecting to see anyone except her dog bounding about in the snow.  
  
She had been back almost a month from her mission and had taken a well- earned period of leave. Now, at the tail-end of it, she felt rejuvenated. Most times, especially at night, she could think about Chakotay and relive all those golden moments they shared. She had acquired the last photograph from Mariah Hamilton and now it was included in her photo-album as the tenth photograph. Her mother had been glad when she came home and declared that her daughter looked better than she had in years.  
  
"There's a new serenity about you, Kathryn..."  
  
Yes, she did feel serene, at peace at last. Her days at home were spent pottering about in the back-garden coaxing her tomato plants to grow faster and generally absorbing the restfulness of her home. She spent quiet times just walking through the estate, visiting old haunts of her childhood days. She hadn't heard from Chakotay, but exalted in the knowledge that one day, he would come.  
  
So it was that she showed no surprise when he appeared in the distance, trudging through the snow. She had been filled with a quiet confidence that he would come. They had had no contact since the day they both touched the urn and she had left him outside the Exhibition Suite. It was by tacit agreement that whatever needed to be done by him, there be closure first. She put her book down, walked to the small foyer where she put on a pair of boots, slipped into them and donned a thick anorak. Although she appeared calm as she opened the front door and stepped onto the porch, her heart sang with joy.  
  
She tried to run, her movement hampered by the deep snow that had fallen steadily through the night. Did Chakotay stand still? She didn't know. She just had to reach him.  
  
"Chakotay!"  
  
The next moment she fell down, right in front of him.  
  
Chakotay bent down and pulled her up very gently that tears sprang to her eyes. He looked so beloved, so free of strain, so...free.  
  
"Shall the goddess kneel before the worshipper?" he asked as he pulled her into his arms.  
  
"I love you, Chakotay," she said, her voice muffled against his thick hooded jacket.  
  
He held her away from him, smiled his beloved dimpled smile. The smile was for her, for her alone, she marveled. She trusted him implicitly. If he were standing there, he was a free man, at last appropriating for himself the right to tell her of his love, to kiss her, to marry her... The shadows were gone...gone...  
  
"My love...my life... I worship you, Kathryn..."  
  
He lifted her in his arms and she clung to him, her arms clamped round his neck. All the time he carried her, he looked at her. Then a sob broke from her as she buried her face against him again. Not once did he stumble, his feet finding her own footprints in the snow unerringly as he walked with her, holding her protectively until he reached the porch of the house.  
  
She was home at last. Home...  
  
It came from a distance, the calling of her name. Kathryn awoke from her gentle reverie when she heard his voice. It was followed by a kiss on her lips. She gave a moan of satisfaction, wormed deeper under the covers and pressed herself into a warm body. But Chakotay pulled the cover away from her face and smiled down at her, a twinkle in his eyes.  
  
"I was carrying you home again, Kathryn..."  
  
"How can I deny it? It was the most romantic thing you did that day."  
  
"So you keep telling me..."  
  
He kissed her again, this time a lingering caress. When he broke it off, the teasing smile returned though his eyes were very tender as they rested on her.  
  
"Are you going to get up, Kathryn?"  
  
"Do I have to?"  
  
"Yes, you do. We're on Ketarcha, remember? It is almost midday. The condors are circling over the canyon, we have to meet Amyal Pravin who wants to ask us a very important question and we have to - "  
  
Kathryn threw the covers off and hurled herself against him. She clung convulsively to him, feeling how his arms encircled her, comforted by his strength and his love.  
  
"I am so happy..."  
  
"So am I, my goddess of virtue. So am I."  
  
***************************** 


End file.
